Everlasting Love
by AGATBfan
Summary: Christine has made her choice. But how will she ever get what she wants in a world that is against the both of them? A story of envy, intrigue, desire, sadness, fate, and everlasting love. Reviews welcome as always!
1. I Will Return

_Christine, I love you..._

And then I paused.

My intent had been to simply hand him the ring and be done with it. I wanted out. Of what, I was not sure, but I wanted out. I was tired of living my life in halves; half darkness, half light. Half love, half hate. Half joy, and half unspeakable sorrow. If you had asked me what I wanted, I would not have said Raoul. What I wanted was security, a blanket from the tempestuous storm that had so recently wrought my existence apart.

What I did not want was to walk headfirst into that very storm. Regardless, that is what I did. For when I pressed the shimmering ring lovingly into his hopeful hand, I whispered three life-changing words.

_I will return._


	2. Within the Hour

**Disclaimer: Believe it or not, I don't own any version of The Phantom of the Opera. **

**A/N: Hey guys! So I'm embarking on my first ever POTO phic, and I have a strong idea about where everything's going to go. However, with school starting and all of that, the majority of my writing will be done on weekends. In other words, don't expect a chapter a day. But if there's one thing that really bugs me, it's an unfinished fic. So I promise that no matter how long it takes I will not disappoint; I WILL ALWAYS update. Also, please note that this story is rated T for now. However. It will quickly change to M *FOR MATURE.* So no complaints when it does. You've been warned. Erik and Christine have a very passionate relationship, and I feel as if it would be doing a disservice to both their characters and my readers if I were to leave those events out of my story. ;) For those of you who find that type of material offensive, feel free to skip those chapters. I will always post at the beginning if the particular chapter goes anywhere beyond kissing. So, without further adieu, I give you the second chapter of Love Everlasting.**

I stared pensively out the carriage window. It was a winter night in Paris. Snow was falling everywhere, cloaking the ground in an ethereal blanket. The buildings were dark save for candles in a few windows, and the streets had long since emptied of even the rowdiest party goers. Only Raoul and I were to be found in the whole of that chilly, wintry Paris road.

If someone were to look at us, they would see a happy, if not bedraggled young couple. Me, in my still-wet wedding dress from the bowels of the opera. Him in a leather jacket and skintight breeches. We sat next to each other, barely speaking a word. He probably thought me a bit traumatized, which I was, but I was not lacking a working mind. And that mind was working, let me tell you. Already, I was devising a plan to get out of this godforsaken carriage and into the arms of my Angel. I should have felt guilty. _Here is a man who loves me and cares for me,_ I thought. _Here is a man who can give me all money has to offer. Here is a man who can provide a beautiful home. Here is a man who can give me all me heart's desires..._ And that's when I realized. All my heart had ever desired was to be with the Angel of Music. Raoul could never give me that.

At the moment, he decided to reach across the seat and grasp my hand gently. "It will be alright, Christine," he murmured. "We'll be at the country house by dawn. You can forget all of this, all that's happened. Forget him. You're with me now."

I smiled weakly and nodded, hoping to mask my true feelings. Thank God he was not expecting me to speak, for I feared I would be at a loss for words.

"Try to sleep, my love," he said. "You have been through more than anyone deserves to be. Rest now."

Closing my eyes, I was careful not to lie my head on his shoulder. I wanted to make this as painless for him as possible. The less physical attachment the better, I reasoned. For Raoul was a good man. There was no doubt in my mind that I loved him, just not in the way I loved my Angel. He was like a brother to me, always there for support, always there for protection. But I could never have with him what I shared with my Angel. Ever. It was a debatable statement on that night after _Il Muto_, when we were standing on the rooftop. We would certainly make a good married couple, I had thought. Raoul and I were kind, gentle souls who shared a childhood full of dreams and make-believe. That was, however, where our similarities ended.

On the other hand, you could say my Angel and I weren't tremendously compatible. Our personalities were polar opposites on most levels: He was fiery and passionate. I, reserved and demure. I wondered, then, how much of that was brought on by Raoul and how much my Angel could change it.

What we did have together was an overwhelming love of music. It had brought us to one another, it had formed our bond, and it had plummeted us into the depths of destruction. Regardless, we would always share it. We both loved beauty, my Angel and I. And we both loved each other. For even though he killed a man, I was hopelessly, desperately in love with him. His voice, his face, his story, his music, and his inexplicable sadness and solidarity that had so resonated with me. Perhaps because we lacked parents, we both felt a certain hole in ourselves, a hole that could be filled only with each other's love and warmth. Not Raoul's. Only my Angel's.

It was then, on that white winter night in Paris, that I promised myself something. I promised that no matter what, I would stay with my Angel of Music. Whatever I had to do, I would do it if it meant spending a lifetime with the person who I loved so dearly. For I knew he would do the same for me.

***

"I'll take that, Mademoiselle," a maid said to me as I stepped out of the carriage. She was referring to my one suitcase, holding my red cloak, a few undergarments, a dressing gown, and a day outfit. The opera may have emitted an aura of glamour and wealth for outsiders, but I swear it all went to La Carlotta. The rest of us were dirt poor.

"Thank you," I responded softly, "but I believe I can manage." I ignored her questioning look, taking my suitcase up a flight of stairs to the room Raoul told me I would be staying. I figured it would not be wise to abandon my only material possessions while planning an escape. My Angel would have been proud.

After I had unpacked, I took a seat on my bed, head spinning. _If I leave now, I will be exhausted and starving by midday. Best rest and eat before I embark on the journey of my life. _Irritatingly, my eyes seemed to shut of their own accord. I sunk into the soft cotton coverlet, wrapping it tightly around me against the January chill.

When I awoke, sunlight was streaming through the delicate curtains of my bedroom windows. _It must be at least noon_, I though miserably. Another stretch of time spent without my Angel. Another stretch of time spent without my heart. Stretching groggily, I managed to change and stumble down the stairs. I had not noticed how lovely this home was. Furnished in a classic style which was so different from that of the gauche Opera Populaire, it was filled with light colors and pale wood that glinted in the winter sun. Grand without being gaudy or intimidating, I knew it would be the perfect home for a family. One that did not involve me.

Much to my dismay, Raoul was sitting hopefully in the parlor. He rose when I entered. "Christine," he said genially. "How did you sleep? I fear you did not rest long enough, it is only just one o'clock. And you must be hungry. Come, have something to eat."

I was, in fact, famished. Having not eaten since before _Don Juan Triumphant_, I was running on empty. "Thank you, Raoul," I said, and I meant it. Eyeing a table of croissants and fruit, I felt my stomach growl. Blushing, I informed him I was very peckish and would he mind if I took some food. _No use being overly cordial, Christine,_ I told myself. _Maybe he won't be so sad to see you go if he finds you to be gluttonous and ill-mannered._ Deep down, I knew he would love me no matter what I did, but the thought made me feel somewhat better.

"Of course. Take as much as you like," was his response.

Smiling, I began to help myself to some fruit. After allowing me time to eat, he glanced at me intensely--or as intensely as Raoul de Chagny could manage--from across the table. "I understand," he commenced, "if you don't want to talk about what happened last night."

"No, Raoul, I do not wish to discuss it," I rudely interrupted. Feeling like an awful person, I added, "What's done is done. We will start anew." I fervently hoped he could not see my grimace as I lied through my teeth.

Hesitating, he patted my hand. "Yes, we will. Speaking of starting anew." _Oh, God. _"Now, Christine, you and I both know it is entirely improper for two Christians to live together without being bonded by marriage. I intend to fix this."

I could barely muster a nod.

"Today, if possible. There is a chapel in the village. It shouldn't take us more than a few minutes to get there. What do you say?"

My voice came out as hoarse. "Today?"

"Yes, today. Do you object?"

"Raoul, I'm still tired."

His expression turned from one of hope to one of annoyance. "Well, it won't take more than a few moments. I'm not asking you to plan a wedding. But that's the reason we came here, to this home. We wanted to get married in peace."

_You wanted to get married in peace. _"It's so soon...." I sounded like a dithering idiot.

"The sooner the better." I never knew he could be so relentless. "I love you. And I assure you I have honorable intentions. You think I intended to spirit you away to my lair and have my way with you? Like that _thing_? No, Christine. I won't have it. We shall wed this day."

My heart raced with anger. How DARE he call my Angel of Music a thing? He was the thing. How one could be so shallow, so unfeeling, I had no idea. Perhaps abandoning him would not be so awful. And maybe agreeing with him would make my plan run more smoothly. "If you insist, my dear," I said, managing a smile.

"I do," he said, returning my smile. "Be ready in an hour, if possible. Oh, Christine, how long I have waited for this day!"

With that, he got up and left. Raoul did love me. But it was then I fully understood that the relationship was and always would be about him and what he wanted. Not like my Angel, who was so caring, so in tune with my feelings. It made me sigh with longing, just remembering.

Croissants and fruit would have to sustain me for a while. For I was leaving within the hour, and no one could hold me back. No one.


	3. Unknown

**A/N: Hello again. Is anybody there?? I realize this is a new story, but I'd like to see if anyone has interest in seeing it progress. So review if you would please. Here's Chapter 3!**

As soon as Raoul left, I began to panic. Who was I to think that I could manage an escape on my own? I had very little idea where I was; the French countryside did not narrow it down. There was no comfort in the fact that this was the middle of winter and all I had was a cloak. I was in need of a horse unless I wanted my feet to freeze, but surely it was harder to hide with such a large beast. I would be hungry soon. At the Opera, the chorus girls were spoiled in that we could eat whenever we wanted due to our high activity levels. I knew I couldn't survive on fruit for days. Then, there was the even more pressing concern of where I would sleep. Again, the season proved to be a problem. Conditions were intolerable to consider sleeping outside if I wanted to wake alive. But where else would I bed? No doubt Raoul will have alerted the whole of France before I had gotten out of the village.

_Oh, Angel. Where are you? _Yes, that was the worst problem of all. Where was he? He could be anywhere, roaming the streets of Paris or Leon or Belgium for all I knew. Would he wait for me? Would he take me back? I told him I would return, but I'm sure it wasn't a convincing pledge as he watched me float away, seemingly happy with Raoul.

_Stop it, Christine. You aren't solving anything_. My logical voice prevailed as I stood up and once again meandered to my room. Shutting the door, I moved to the window which provided a clear view of the manor's grounds. I breathed a sigh of relief as I noticed my suitcase was still on the floor next to the bed, belongings intact. Yet the sigh of relief soon turned into a quick inhalation of despair when I realized that I could not take the heavy trunk with me. I'd have to stay in the clothes on my back no matter how tattered or wet they became. My bag, light as it was, would certainly weigh me down and impede the journey.

Looking out again on the grounds, I observed a fountain, a circular drive, and a path with trees lining both sides which presumably led to the main road. Unfortunately, this scene was visible from almost any window in the house. It would be most disheartening to have Raoul catch me before I'd even began my trek. I knew I would have to go around. With a humorless laugh, I recalled my days of getting hopelessly lost at the Opera with its twisting corridors and dark hallways. And now I would have to face similar challenges, only this time through an entire country while freezing alive. Splendid.

Peering out at the hallway upon a regal grandfather clock, I noticed the time. A quarter of an hour had passed since Raoul had informed me of his intentions. A quarter of an hour wasted, as far as I was concerned. I'd never been a planner; my life was set out for me from the time my father had died. No, a planner I was not. What I did have going for me was an active imagination which had the potential to greatly help or hinder me. I would need to use it to my advantage, as it appeared to be my greatest asset in this situation.

Quickly I plaited my unruly hair, more to kill time than anything else. I held my cloak and descended down the stairs, only to come face to face with Raoul in the large sitting area.

"Ah, I see you're ready! Come, we must go. You are to be my wife."

"Raoul," I said, not knowing where I was going to take this. _Active imagination. _There was a pause as he looked at me expectantly. "Raoul," I started again.

"Are you feeling quite alright, dear?" He asked, appearing concerned.

_That's it! _"No, I'm afraid I'm not well. The journey of last night did indeed wear me out. I tried to rest but found I could not. I saw an apothecary in the village, and I'm sure they would have something to soothe this pounding headache."

Was it a look of annoyance which crossed his cherubic features? "Indeed. I would take you, but I'm afraid I must go to the chapel and make plans with the priest. I trust you can manage if I send Evie with you?"

"Who is Evie?"

That same maid who had offered aid with my bags stepped out of the parlor. Her youth startled me. She couldn't have been many years older than I, but her features possessed a weariness that I had not witnessed in anyone at the Opera. "Yes," I replied. "Evie may join me."

Raoul stood. "Then I shall be seeing you. Please make haste. I wouldn't want you to be sick on our wedding night. It would prove most troublesome."

_For you_, I thought, irritated. The more time I spent with this man the less guilty I felt about leaving him. With that, he departed, not seeming to care in the least about the well-being of his fiancee. I turned to Evie.

"We'd best be on our way, mademoiselle," she said in a soft, lilting voice.

I nodded and walked through the large French doors, quickly swinging my cloak over me. Evie trailed behind me. She took nervous steps, small and timid. At the time, though, I could have cared less about her steps, as I saw no feasible way out. There would be no escape. I would have to marry Raoul and find a way out later. My heart literally sank to the pit of my stomach.

_Guide me, Angel. Save me. _

No answer. We entered the very same carriage I had ridden in the previous night. Was this the same carriage which would take me back from the wedding? The same one we would go to church in, the same one I would ride in with my children? _No, Christine. Don't think that. You'll never get anywhere thinking that way. _

Evie and I rode in silence for a few moments, neither of us saying a word. She did not strike me as the type to initiate a conversation, so I asked her the only thing I could think of. "Evie," I commenced, "have you ever loved someone?"

Eyes wide, she blinked at me in apparent shock. "Well, yes, I have," she stammered.

"Me too," I said. "Who do you love?"

"Oh, well... er, why do you want to know?" she asked.

"Because," I replied, "these kinds of things interest me. Who do you love?"

A faraway look appeared in her gray eyes. "I was engaged, mademoiselle. To a man named Paul. He was a field hand, and I would have done anything for him. We were meant to be."

"And where is Paul now?"

She seemed to come crashing down to Earth. "He is with God. He took ill with a fever and I could no longer help him. We were very poor."

"Oh," I murmured, feeling awful that I had brought up such an obviously painful subject. "Evie, I'm so sorry."

Smiling weakly, she said, "I am as well. Thank you. You aren't like the rest of them who visit."

"I should hope not," I jested.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, no. I spoke out of turn. Forgive me."

"You did no such thing. Speak to me as you would a friend. I need one."

"You need a friend? You have the Viscount. You love him."

I assume I adapted her glassy gaze. Perhaps there was a chance at escape after all. "Evie. Listen to me. I don't. I love someone just as you loved your Paul, but it is not Raoul--or, not the Viscount."

"W-what?" She whispered. "You are to be married this day!"

I nodded. "And no one asked me."

"Who is it who has your affections, then?"

I paused. "A man who inspired not only music in me but love and friendship as well. He taught me strength, kindness, compassion. He brought my soul to life and I, in turn, taught him that life was worth living for."

"Oh my," she said, obviously shocked. "Does he have a name?"

"Yes," I whispered, my throat tight with the beginnings of tears. In truth, I did not know his birth name. "But he is simply Angel to me."

"Then why marry the Viscount? You must go and be with your Angel!"

I glanced at her suddenly desperate face. "I wish I could. You don't know how much I long for him. But the world is against us. Raoul is against us."

"But you love each other." She boldly took my hand in hers. "What I wouldn't give for another day with Paul." Tears spilled over her hazy eyes. "And I'll never get one. You can. You need to find him, mademoiselle. For me."

I started to sob. Not only for my dilemma, but for the life of sorrow this young girl must be living. "I can't. And call me Christine."

"Christine," she pleaded. "If you love him half as much as I loved Paul, the whole universe could be against you. It would not matter. You will have each other."

"How do you know?" I asked through my tears.

Gently, she clasped my hand in both of hers. "I can see it in your eyes."

I was a mess, shaking with sadness, fear, and longing as sobs wracked my spent body.

Evie sat with me for a long while, remaining silent while I cried. "Christine," she said softly. "The Viscount would have wanted you back by now. I'll take you to the edge of town, but we can't have the driver get suspicious. If you walk straight on that road, you should come to another village. It is called Meursault. Christine, are you listening?"

I looked up and slowly nodded. Crying would do me no good now. "Meursault," I repeated.

"Yes. It's a bit larger than this village, but not by much. There's two inns with a decent reputation. You do have money, don't you?"

Beginning to cry again, I shook my head. "No, no, I do not. It's all with Raoul."

"Christine!" She exclaimed. "You can't just sit here and cry! No wonder you upper class are always so miserable. I have the money the Viscount gave me for your medicine. Fortunately, he overpaid me. It will be enough for a few nights at the inn, or possibly one night and a carriage to Paris. I would take the latter. Get as far away from here as possible. He will be looking for you. Is that where you think your lover is? Paris?"

"Yes," I said shakily. He wouldn't leave if he knew I would come back, would he? Would he?

"Fine, then. If you walk quickly," she eyed me doubtfully, "you will make it to Meursault by nightfall. I cannot give you a horse. Stay at the side of the road where the snow is the lightest, but always keep close to the wood. If you notice any carriages, immediately hide. Don't take a chance. Even if it is not the Viscount, it could be something worse."

A shudder crept through me as I grasped her meaning.

"Another benefit of keeping to the side is that you won't leave a footprint. If you notice footprints, simply change your direction a few times. Whatever you do, though, do not get lost. And don't sleep outside."

I nodded for what seemed like the hundredth time as the carriage pulled to a halt. "This is all I can tell you."

I was amazed with this girl who had seemed so demure and meak. Little did I know she had proved a more valuable asset than an active imagination ever could.

"Evie, I cannot begin to thank you enough. When I find my Angel, we will return to you." I felt as if I'd been saying that a lot lately.

"Don't!" She stared at me urgently. "Don't risk getting caught. I'll be fine. Now go, Christine."

She handed me the money, and I found my eyes filled once again with tears. "It was an honor to have met you, Evie. I will always remember you."

"And I, you," she smiled. "You've made me believe in love again."

With that, I stepped out of the carriage and out into the unknown.

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	4. Anything

**Yay! I have some reviews! Thanks guys, it means a lot. :)**

Immediately after emerging from the coach, I began to have second thoughts. Not on escaping and finding my Angel, of course, but about the way in which I was going about it. _It's illogical, Christine,_ that ever-nagging voice inside my head told me. _You should have at least waited until Raoul had your trust. You should have told him you were making a trip to have some dresses altered. That way, he'd expect you to be away for hours, not minutes. _

At that moment, I decided I must completely ignore that rational side of me; it would only drag me down. Gaining Raoul's trust would likely mean spending more than a day with him. It would be enduring a wedding and a wedding night, which I could not stomach. Not when I knew my Angel was near. I could sense him, his presence, and I silently willed him to remain in Paris for the time being so I would be able to find him.

As I began my steady path along the snow covered road, I knew in my heart that I had made the correct choice in leaving as soon as possible. I'd formed an everlasting love with him the moment we had touched hands, his long, large gloved ones creating the perfect contrast to my petite white palms. So many opportunities had passed us by. When he sang to me of the night's music I wanted to stay there forever, but he had forced me away. _Come. Those fools who run my theater will be missing you. _Next there was the graveyard. In my heart of hearts, I'd known that the voice from the tomb was not my father's. That hope had died so long ago that I dared not relinquish it, for I understood he was in a better place. No, I recognized the alluring melody as that of my Angel's, the tone which was loving, warm, chilling, seductive, and heartbreaking all at once. On that cold day which was, I realized with a pang of shock, only weeks ago, I would have once again took his hand as he led me to his world, wherever that may be. Then memories of _Don Juan Triumphant_ flooded back. Was it truly last night? Those few moments had been so filled with passion and longing and pent up emotions that I'd forgotten where and who I was. Strangely, I found I loved that feeling.

For it was the feeling my Angel always gave me, whether he was singing an enchanting melody, an operatic duet, or a declaration of love. That feeling had never come close to being replicated in my life. And I knew that my emotions were not driven by lust, for I had experienced a surge of compassion and love so deep it hurt when I had to hand him the wedding ring.

Yes, the one thing I was sure of was that I loved him. He was all that mattered. But did he feel the same for me? I would not hold him at fault if he refused my love. After all, how many times had I refused his? Of course, I had no real means of making an independent decision, but the one time I could have stolen away with him, I chose not to. Before that loathed voice in my mind could get to me again, I reasoned that what I was doing now was all I was capable of. Deep down, I knew he would love me unconditionally. That knowledge, however, did not quell the sensation that I was guilty of the most horrible form of treason: Treason of the heart.

I found that my pondering had made the time go by faster. By now, the small village where Raoul lived was fading fast on the horizon. Hurriedly, I quickened my pace. Evie would have gotten back to the manor without me, and after a few minutes Raoul would start wondering where I had gone. I prayed Evie was as gifted in spinning tales as she was in consoling me, for I would need it.

With the sun high in the sky, the cold was tolerable. Wind whipped in my face and I pulled the hood of my cloak tighter around my nose and mouth. It provided a meager cover for the harsh conditions of the country. No wonder. It was fashioned for fine Parisian women who would simply be exiting their carriages to step into a warm manor. For the thousandth time, I wished for my Angel. In this instance, it was his warm embrace which I yearned for. What I wouldn't give for his strong, long arms to encircle me. He was the only thing I needed to shield me from the cold, the only blanket I'd ever desire.

Finally, the village disappeared from view. I was alone, the barren road serving as my only companion. _Don't slow down, Christine._The dark would only bring more frigid temperatures and gustier winds. I continued on like this for a good hour. It bothered me some that I had no measure of the progress I made, seeing as the road was indeed one straight line. _Good_, I supposed, _I am somewhat directionally challenged_. A frame of reference, however, would be nice. What if I were nowhere Meursault, heading the completely wrong way? _No, that's not possible,_ I reassured myself. _Evie told you to go straight. That's what you did._

Still, horrible thoughts flitted through my mind. Thoughts of freezing to death. Thoughts of starving. Thoughts of getting kidnapped, a common occurrence in the countryside. Young women, runaways mostly, were an easy find. _Women like me._ Then there were thoughts of having Raoul find me. I knew he would send out a search party, armed with the best men and dogs in the whole of France. Which was why it was dire for me to locate to an inn to spend the night at. Even if I didn't perish in the cold, I would be out in the open for anyone, Raoul or worse, to discover. _And I won't get anywhere if I keep feeding myself silly thoughts of death, starvation, and cold_. A saying my father often murmured to me came rushing back: "Keep your thoughts on the task ahead, and soon it will be a task behind." Tears involuntarily came to my eyes and I angrily wiped them away. It had been years, but the combination of my desperate situation and my altered mindset made me miss my father dearly. I was determined to dwell on the present, though, and I focused on quickening my pace and making progress on the seemingly unending country road.

***

Dark was drawing near. The sun was well past its high point in the sky and threatened to dip below the horizon and leave me shivering. I noted a bend on the road a few miles ago, indicating I was changing direction. Judging by the placement of the sun, I guessed I was heading southeast, back toward Paris and hopefully toward Meursault. Putting myself in somewhat of a trance to avoid pessimistic thoughts of cold and hunger, the sound of hooves beating against the frosty path almost escaped me. When I caught them, I immediately panicked, praying first to God that it was someone with honorable intentions and second that it was not Raoul. Realizing they were coming from ahead rather than behind me, I relaxed as the latter was eliminated from my worries. For safety's sake, I dipped behind the brush at the side of the road, shielding myself what I thought to be completely from view.

To my horror, the carriage halted and a woman dressed in black emerged. She looked to be in her thirties with unusually short, dark hair and blue eyes so piercing I thought I might go blind. Appearing to speak to the air, she said in a strange accent, "You needn't hide. I know you are in there."

My heart skipped a beat when I realized she was addressing me. Still, I made no movement.

"Must you make me come in and retrieve you? It would be easier for the both of us if you just stepped out."

_Yes,_ I reasoned, _it is better to be trapped with a stranger in the open than in a forest._ Slowly I raised myself so I could step out of the foliage and onto the road.

"That's better," she spoke in that unrecognizable accent. "My name is Valla. I'm here to help you."

_Here to help me?! I've never seen you before in my life._ Slowly, I backed away. The feeling of being utterly helpless closed in around me and I felt my heart begin to speed up.

She attempted a smile, but it came off as a lip curl. "Please, do not be afraid, I only want to aid you."

I was extremely suspicious of this woman, and therefore decided to remain firmly where I was as if that would help matters. Knowing I had not spoken a word, I licked my parched lips and managed a cold, "What do you want from me?"

Valla laughed and the sound was quite alarming; a mixture of a tolling bell and nails on a chalkboard, neither pleasant nor upsetting, just rather odd. "Want from you? My dear, I desire nothing from you. What do you want from me?"

"I want you to leave me alone."

Was that a roll of her eyes? "As I told you before, that's not possible. I apologize for being frank, but leaving you out in the cold for the night would mean death or disaster for you. Where are you headed?"

"Meursault." I hadn't meant it, but the word escaped my lips. Silently chastising myself, she responded, "Would you care for a ride? We can reach the village in about an hour if my horses are worth their money."

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I prefer to walk. The air is refreshing. Goodbye."

Taking long, what I hoped to be confident, strides I walked away from the carriage. Valla held up a pale hand to stop my movements. "I am sorry," she whispered. "Perhaps you don't understand. You _will_ come with me."

I searched her face, trying to read her frosty blue eyes. "I do not wish to."

"Oh, but Peter does."

My words came out as a choked whisper. "Peter?"

A tall, heavyset man stepped out of the carriage as if on cue. "I cannot stand to see a woman, particularly one as beautiful as yourself, in distress." His eyes raked over me and my stomach lurched.

"I'm not in distress. I'm fine," I breathed.

He stepped forward to caress my cheek with a broad hand. "You do not look fine. You look cold, hungry, and tired. May I ask your name, Mademoiselle?"

"No, you may not," I said with as much vehemence as I could muster. "Let me go or I shall call my husband on you."

"Where is that husband of yours?" Valla asked. "Because I do not see him."

Peter chuckled. It was warm and inviting, so unlike the man it belonged to. "Yes, darling, I see no husband. No one but us for miles."

_For miles. _I would have had a chance of fighting of the woman alone. But with a man, particularly one of his stature, added into the mix my chances of escape were slim.

I must have stood there an awfully long time, for I felt a pair of hands on my waist. "Get in the carriage," Peter said gruffly, hoisting me up and tossing me in the thing like a rag doll. I screamed, but all sounds were muffled by a bony hand. Biting down hard on it, I tasted blood. The hand briefly withdrew. I heard a stream of curses coming from Valla, but Peter quickly slammed the carriage door and all sound was blocked. I did see him mounting one of the horses, and felt a lurching beneath me. The coach began to move. He must have left Valla behind, and the thought alerted me of his unfeeling personality. Trying the door to the coach and finding it to be locked, I sat back in the uncomfortable bench. Panic filled me. Whatever this man was planning could not be good. Escape would be of no use until we got to an inn. Perhaps they really were heading to Meursault as Valla had said. I somehow doubted it. The horses were galloping now. Wherever we were going he was trying to hurry. Had my husband comment worried him? Probably not, but I would use anything to make him on edge. At least I was alone in this small space. It was warmer than the frigid winter air, and I could rest. However, I didn't dare close my eyes. If we saw another carriage I planned to wave through the window and desperately try to gain the passenger's attention.

The panic that I had successfully pushed down with produtive thoughts of planning suddenly welled up inside me so strong that tears sprang to my eyes. I let them fall as I dwelled upon the fact that for most of my life I'd gone from one form of trap to another, sometimes realizing it and sometimes not. Blinking once, twice, I promised myself that I would get out of this cage before the door slammed shut.

Remembering my cloak, I removed it. My fingers found the dampness of the hood and slowly moved to the long drawstring which controlled how tight or loose the neck would pull. Holding onto one end, I yanked it loose from the material and slipped it inside the front of my dress. _Just in case. _I would do anything to get back to my angel.

Anything.

**Review if you please!**


	5. Little Flower

**Hi again guys! So I thought I would respond to some reviews at the bottom of this page. I'll try to address each reviewer specifically but some responses will apply to a few of you, so feel free to read those. :P I'm not terribly fond of this chapter, but it's certainly a transitional one. A lot happens, as you are about to find out...**

**WARNING - I was debating about changing this story to M for a rather violent assault, but decided against it. It's not extremely graphic (I hope, I kind of judged it based on the fact that it would be acceptable in a PG-13 movie), and it's necessary to the story, but it is a bit upsetting so proceed with a bit of caution. I'm sorry in advance if I offend anyone; please let me know if I do and I will change the rating ASAP.**

The carriage lurched to a hault and I was jolted awake. The first thought that came to my mind was something along the lines of: _You weak, weak girl! How on Earth could you have fallen asleep? You've just been kidnapped by God knows who, you were shoved in the back of a moving carriage, yet you somehow manage to sink into a slumber._

Then, I reminded myself that I could only think positively from this point forward. _Hard to put an optimistic spin on this one. _Let's see... I was still in the carriage, curtains drawn, the time of day unknown. I dared not open them, for fear of alerting Peter I was awake. I could do nothing but sit and let time pass as I heard footsteps nearing the door to the coach. Oh yes, things were definitely looking up.

Moving as far away as possible from the entrance, I readied my makeshift lasso, half smiling to myself. _As if that's going to help you. _A silent wish went out to my Angel, begging him to save me once more. But to no avail. The door opened and before I knew it, two rough hands encircled my waist and hoisted me down from the coach. Before I could muster a scream in my parched throat a cloth was tied around my face. It blocked my eyes, nose and mouth, suffocating and blinding me at the same time. Rendered defenseless again, I relaxed a bit into my captor's arms. _No use fighting. Save your energy._

And I would need it. I realized night had closed in around me, as no light was escaping into my cloth. However, I heard other noises, indicating we were in a populated area. Paris, maybe? I would find out soon enough.

My carrier seemed to be climbing stairs, all the while holding me tightly. His grip faltered a bit as he lost his footing on an ice-covered step. I irrationally took the opportunity to pry loose from his arms and scramble down the steps, coming dangerously close to falling backward because of my visual impairment. My nervous hands shook as I made quick work of the knot in the back, simultaneously trying to make some headway in the escape. I felt something pull at my hair, almost as if trying to pull every follicle from my head. The more I struggled against it, the harder my tresses were yanked. Hot tears sprang to my eyes. I knew what had my hair: A hand. Yet I refused to believe I could come so close to getting help only to be recaptured.

Cursing, the man I knew as Peter roughly clutched at me, swinging me flush to his chest and then over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes rather than a human being. Pounding at his back, I shouted, or I thought I did. Until I heard a voice in my ear, "No sound is coming out, little flower. It's the stress; your body won't let you talk."

Tears were dripping down my cheeks now, and not because of someone pulling my hair. These were tears of sadness and of utter desperation. Finally, I was tossed inside a building, landing on a hardwood floor. Before I could climb to my feet, a new pair of hands grabbed me and dragged me up a staircase, the harsh angles of the steps seemingly tearing me apart. Across a hallway, into a room, and then the hands mercifully released me. I was shaking, and when I went to touch my burning cheek my fingers came back red and sticky. Shuddering, from cold and pain and fear, I heard a lock click. Everything went black.

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"Ah, so our spitfire has decided to return. How are you, my dear? Not too hungry, I hope? Here, I brought you some bread."

Light filtered through my half-closed eyelids as I came to. The curtains to the room were drawn, and I looked briefly out to find a cobbled street and another wall of the building opposite. Yes, I was definitely in a city. "Where am I?" I murmured.

"That is not of your concern," said the voice, a cold alto timbre. "Now eat something. You've not eaten since your arrival and you must be starving."

I remembered not to eat anything if it is untouched by the person giving it, so I rejected the offer, telling her she must take a bite before I did. Grudgingly, she complied. _So they don't want to kill me. They have other plans. _"Who are you?"

"Again," she snipped, suddenly impatient, "not of your concern. Aside from being disobedient and unladylike, you are also nosy."

With new found energy, I rose to my feet. "Nosy? Dare you blame me for enquiring who my abductor is?"

"Easy now, you haven't yet come to your senses," she gentled.

"Do not patronize me! I demand to know my circumstances or else I swear I will..."

She stared at me, an amused look in her eye. "Yes?"

Suddenly, I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me and I could no longer inhale. I crumpled to the ground and clutched at my stomach, gasping for breath.

"Perhaps you need water."

I looked up at her, eyes bleary. "Water? I need a doctor. I was nearly killed while I was being smuggled into this building."

"Nonsense," she chided, "no one was smuggling you. You went perfectly willing into that carriage, and you had a warm place to sleep. Were you planning on spending a night in the cold?"

I was silent, having expended all my energy from speaking a moment ago.

"I did not think so. Now eat your," she glanced at a pocket watch, "lunch, and please do not try anything. You would upset us both."

With that, she departed from the room. I choked back a sob and made my way to the window of the small room. Upon inspection, I saw a man get out of a regal looking carriage and a young woman come to meet him. No doubt I was in a brothel; how to get out would be the question. _When would they start to sell me?_ I wondered, fear welling up inside. I had always watched from the dormitory windows as young girls stood in back alleys with their outfits and hair done, waiting for a man to come along. Always I had assumed it was a life they chose to lead, never did it cross my mind that I would be one of them and it would hardly be my decision.

The only upside to this entire situation was my location. I was in a city to be sure, and there were lots of places to escape to. Praying it was Paris, I silently reviewed a map in my mind. It seemed as if my directional skills would be frequently called upon, much to my dismay. Now, the girl entered the coach. I became sick to my stomach, the food suddenly seeming extremely unappetizing. Yet I knew I had to eat, or I would risk a completely avoidable death by starvation, hardly what I needed at the moment.

After I had finished lunch, or the petty excuse for one, I tried the door and found it unsurprisingly locked. The windows as well, not that I'd think of jumping off a third story. I was truly trapped, but before I could begin to cry as a natural reaction, the door burst open, revealing, much to my horror, Peter.

"Well, well, how is my little flower this fine afternoon? I'll have you know I've got a month's worth of injuries due to you. I hope you'll be a bit friendlier to our clients."

I glared at him with all the menace I could manage. "I will not be."

"All for the better," he shrugged, lips curling. "I'm sure quite a few of them like it that way."

Again, nausea overtook me. _Stay strong, Christine. _"So you'll admit it, then? You've kidnapped me and are planning on selling me to men who want my body."

"I suppose, yes," he informed me, as if discussing the weather.

An expression which must have been a mix between indignance and fear crossed my face. "That is sick."

"There are worse things, my little flower." His hand stroked my cheek. "You will no longer be a runaway. You will have food and clothes and money."

I turned my face away in disgust. "I will be a slave. And I swear upon all that is good in this world that I will never submit to any man willingly. My first _customer_ will be lucky to leave with his life."

He chuckled, chilling my blood. "But I have no doubt you will be a fast learner. It's much easier if you do what they say. Then it's over quickly." He turned my face toward his and pressed a cold kiss to my lips. I felt vomit come up in my throat and I struggled to push him away, but his hands soon found my bottom and pulled me roughly to him. Suddenly, I thought to bite down on his lip until I drew blood. He did not waver, though, as he roughly pushed me against the wall. I tried to scream but his lips were still glued to mine. My nails clawed at his jacket but could not gain purchase on the slippery, thick material.

An ache shot through my back where it was rigid on the wall, probably from the dragging of the day before. Pulling from my last resort, I brought my legs up from the ground and kneed him between his thighs as hard as I could. He jumped back, roaring in fury. I took this opportunity to pick up a heavy lamp, brandishing it, ready to use it on his head if need be. Peter merely laughed, that cold sound. With nudge of his hand, the lamp went toppling off my hand and landed on my foot. I screamed in pain, sharpness shooting from my toes all the way up my leg. Kicking me down to the floor, Peter kneeled over me. "Now you've ruined a foot. They'll have to come in to see you."

Through a combination of anger and pain, I gathered enough courage to spit straight in his face. His coal eyes blazed as he roughly ripped my skirts. _This is it,_ I though dimly. _I'm so sorry, Angel. _I heard the sound of his pants coming off, felt tears of shame and hatred and fear and sadness running down my cheeks. _I am giving up. _The thought entered my mind and it only made me feel more terrified and alone. But I couldn't sit here and let it happen. With all the force I could manage, I once again lifted my knee from where it was resting flat and kicked him right between his legs. He shouted and lurched back, but I had lost all strength to stand and could only pant on the ground, crawling to the door, opening my mouth to scream...

"**Christine!"** A voice from the hallway, loud and raw, sounded in my ear. Was I imagining it? How much blood had I lost from the night before? The pain from my foot was overtaking me, threatening me with black pinpricks at my eyelids.

**"CHRISTINE!" **It called again, this time louder. No, it was not my imagination. My heart pounded in my chest as I heard that simple word, so laced with passion and protection and love.

"Angel," I whispered. A numbing force hit my back. I buckled and fell to the floor.

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A/N: I'll just quietly walk away now, hoping readers do not hit _me _with a lamp. ;)

And now, the review responses. Oh, and don't forget to review! It's all I ask of you! (Yes, I'm a very creative person). ;D

**No Name - **Why thank you! I hope you're enjoying the story.

**Jegsy Scarr - **Thanks! I can't guarantee there won't be trouble, but I can guarantee romance. That M Rating won't be here for a while, but when it is it will be there for a reason. Hehe

**Zeeksmom - **I'll try to update as soon as humanly possible. However, I'd rather turn out an edited, well-written chapter than one which is rushed for an update. I'm sorry for anyone who's used to an update every few days; I'm not that skilled!

**Ivory Wolf - **Oh yes they are! :)

**Bwayphantomrose - **Thank you so much for your thoughtful review! I will try my best to make everyone happy when Erik inevitably returns--I read your profile about how you don't necessarily support either Erik extreme, which I agree with. I hope you don't mind a fluffy Erik once in a while, though. Can't help myself. ;)

**Debkay - **Thank you very very much! And yes, Evie was rather ideal, wasn't she? Christine thinks she always has the worst luck, but actually has a lot of good things happen to her as well. Right now, though, she has the short end of the stick, to put it mildly.

**Eleadnor - **Yes, I was very hesitant to write in the first person, especially from Christine's POV, as you can't get inside anyone else's head and it makes a writer's job that much harder. But in a way it's the most personal type of writing, so I'm going to take a stab at it. Thanks for the lovely review!

**Bri Bizzell - **Yes, to quote ALW in the press launch for "Love Never Dies" Raoul is a very boring man. Thanks for the review!

**Karina - **I'm sorry if the whole "I'll update if you review" thing bothers you, I truly did not mean to come off that way and I read back the summary and realized it did indeed sound a little threatening. That's why I changed it, and I appreciate your comment. I do love writing, obviously, but it's hard to write if you feel like you don't have anyone reading your work. Feedback is also a huge incentive to keep going, both positive and negative. How else does a writer truly improve? So, while I definitely do not write FOR reviews, I write in hopes of them. :P


	6. River

**Why hello again lovelies! I am once again very appreciative of all the reviews, thanks SO much. This story is such a joy to write and I think many of you will enjoy this next chapter. As usual, review responses at the bottom.****

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My eyes slid open. You know, up until that point I would have been surprised to awaken in a moving carriage, but it seemed to be happening rather frequently. Therefore, I did not particularly mind. Especially as I felt two arms encircling me. Two strong, solid arms. If I didn't know better, I'd think those arms belonged to someone I loved, someone I'd been desperately searching for. Of course, I knew this could not be, so I resigned myself to basking in a pleasant dream. I didn't care about the horrors which awaited me at the brothel. For now I would be at peace and make believe that I was in my Angel's embrace.

I settled deeper into these imaginary arms, softly sighing. My cheek was pressed against what appeared to be a broad chest. Drowsy and warm, I snuggled into it and was surprised to feel a hand softly stroke my curls. That same hand dusted lightly down to my forehead and cheeks, fluttering me with caresses so light and airy that I thought I would die from the feeling. My knees seemed to be bent into my Angel's lap. I was curled tightly into his warm form, but it was not uncomfortable. Instead, I felt a peace like I had never experienced before.

My eyes were now fully open, and my Angel seemed to notice. At once he rose, and I fell the short distance from his lap to the floor, crying out. He immediately cursed, saying he hurt me once again. I grasped onto his leg, tears filling my eyes. "Angel!" I sobbed. "Angel!"

He looked at me, full lips parted. "This carriage will drop you off at the Viscount's chateau. I'm sorry I had to take you like this, Christine, but you were about to be attacked. From the hands of one monster into the arms of another," he added with a chilling laugh.

Unable to speak, I continued blubbering like a babe. An expression that could only pass for sheer pain passed across his countenance. "Here, I shall sit in the corner of the carriage. Then, you won't have to look at me. Better yet, I will get out and ride on one of the horses. Yes, that's what I shall do."

I only clutched harder to his leg. Tears ran down my face like a river. "I though my dreams, at least, would be good to me," I shuddered, "but they too hold no comfort. My Angel is once again deserting me!" I collapsed now, onto the floor of the carriage, shaking with tears of rejection.

"Dreams?" His voice wavered with emotion as he bent down to me.

"Yes!" I cried. "For this one started out so well; you stroked my face and made all the pain go away. Now, it's back again and sharper than before." I curled into a ball. "Oh, God!"

"What hurts, Christine? Tell me, and we shall stop at the nearest doctor!" My Angel sounded panicked.

"If I don't awake first."

I raised my head to see him looking at me strangely. "You are not dreaming, Christine. As I said before, you were being attacked by that hideous excuse for a man. He planned to sell you. Forgive me, but I had to take you once again."

"F...Forgive you? And this is a dream, I know it is. For what else could be so perfect? All I have ever wanted was to be with you, it's all I've thought about these past days. I feared for my life if I should never see you again. I needed to look into your eyes, be in your warm embrace, and hear your beautiful voice. And now, I feel myself coming awake. My Angel, no! I don't want to wake up, don't want this fantasy to end."

Again, confusion was displayed upon the unmasked, beautiful side of his face. I grasped his hand and he at first recoiled then closed his eyes as he embraced my touch. I murmured, "I can feel you here. This is an odd dream indeed."

"Christine," his voice was hoarse. "Christine, this is no dream. I'm here. You are safe. I know you think me to be a monster but I assure you I am not..."

"I love you!" I nearly screamed, hugging him tightly, pressing my face into his neck and breathing in his masculine scent.

He reeled back, tears coming to his green eyes. "What? Do not mock me, Christine."

"Oh, Angel, I love you I love you I love you! I could say it a thousand times and none in jest. Please do not take me back to Raoul!" I found my way back into his arms, once again sobbing into his chest.

It wasn't long until I felt wetness upon my forehead, and I realized he was crying, too. "Truly?" He murmured.

I looked up at him. "Angel, I love you more than life itself. For you are life itself."

Cupping my chin and staring intensely into my gaze, he said softly but passionately, "Christine Daaé, I would die without you. I have loved you as a student, as a friend, and now as a woman."

Without thinking, I kissed him. It was soft and sweet and light. _Is there a more wonderful feeling in the world? _I thought to myself, reveling in the feel of his full lips just touching mine. I wanted to stay there forever, my mouth pressed to his. Our lips brushed as we parted, and I felt a fire stir within me. "Does this mean I don't go back to Raoul?" I asked hopefully.

He pressed me to him and closed his eyes. "Whatever you want, Christine."

"Oh, Angel, I want you!" I cried, kissing him again. This time, the kiss became more passionate as my tongue softly ran across the seam of his lips. Before I could continue, he pulled back. "How is it that you kiss a monster?"

"I see no monster," I said softly. "I see a handsome, brilliant, kind, and passionate man who hold my heart. I love you, Angel," I murmured again.

"Erik," he whispered.

"What?" I asked, confused.

He gave me hopeful half smile. "My birth name is Erik, but you can call me whatever you wish to. Please do not feel the need..."

I silenced him with a warm kiss that was not soft in the least. "Erik," I breathed. "How I love you, Erik."

"Oh, Christine," he said in a lilting, strained voice. After a long, deep kiss, he parted from me, breathless. My hand went to my lips to feel them buzzing with an unnamed heat.

He cleared his throat. "I should tell the driver to turn around, then?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Take me anywhere."

Softly caressing my cheek, he cooed, "My trusting angel. How I would love to whisk you away to Madrid or Rome or the Far East..."

"Oh, please, Erik, please do!" I was beside myself with excitement now, excitement and relief.

He laughed, and the sound filled my heart to the brim with happiness. Had I ever heard him laugh in that way? It was light and mellifluous, like the gentle patter of rain on a spring day. "I wish I could, _mon ange._ But there are matters to attend to, the most important of which being the grave injuries you suffered at the hands of that evil man."

I frowned. "Your love is all the healing I need."

"If that were true, I'd give you all that and more, Christine. And I will. But I doubt my love alone will mend all or any of your wounds. You need to go to a doctor, and the only place in close proximity with physicians I respect is Paris. Which means, my dear, we must not be seen together. The whole of the city is looking for a man in a mask."

Throwing my arms around him, I told Erik, "If Paris is the only place for me to go, then I shall die a happy death. Never again shall we part, Erik."

"Christine..."

"Do not argue with me. I will just find my way back to you. There has to be another location."

He sighed. "During my years in the Opera, I did read extensively about medicine. However, not enough for me to trust myself in your care."

"It will just have to do," I said indignantly. "If you have any proclivity for it at all, I have no doubt you are better than the best doctors."

"You flatter me, Christine. Yet it would not be proper."

My eyebrows furrowed in innocent confusion. "Whyever not?"

"Because..." I swear he blushed, "Because, I would have to uncloth you. And I certainly hope you know my feelings toward you are a bit different than those of a female nurse."

I could not help but giggle. "Well, we are to marry, are we not? It will happen at some point."

"What did you just say?" His eyes were wide and blazing.

"Pardon?"

"What did you say just now?"

I looked down, embarrased. "I said we were to be... married."

His lips parted, and I could not help but to gaze at their lush pink softness. I remembered how those lips felt pressed to mine and suddenly yearned for them again. "Married? How...?"

"I am sorry, Erik," I mumbled, "It was a silly notion, it really just slipped out." I was stumbling over words now, acting like an idiot. "Please, don't read anything into it--"

He silenced me with a searing kiss. I felt a warmth shoot down from my mouth to the pit of my belly as one of my hands reached for his hair, frustrated to come into contact with his wig. He moaned raggedly into my mouth, and I in turn whimpered. Much to my disappointment, he broke off the kiss quickly. "Marry me, Christine Daaé." He was positively breathless, and his eyes seemed to search my soul.

"Yes," was all I could manage.

Once again, Erik laughed. I could not get enough of the sound; it was the best music, better than any opera even he could compose. "You have no idea the happiness you bring me. But allow me to depart for a moment, I must tell our driver to stop at the nearest inn."

I nodded, unable to speak. My love for Erik was so strong; it flowed over me as if it were a river. I awaited his return to the carriage with a strange yet beautiful anticipation of what was to come.**

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**A/N: I hope you all were happy with this chapter. You all should know that this story is FAR from being over... It's only just commenced and there is plenty of plot to go around. So, enjoy the fluff while it lasts. :p One thing I really wanted to address is the way Erik was portrayed in this chapter. He still has a multitude of issues and is far from having a healthy outlook on life. However, he was so taken by Christine's love and devotion that he decided to put them aside for the moment. If Erik seemed too "perfect" to you, please tell me. ****Oh, and please review! It makes my day! :) Now, for the usual reviewer responses:**

**Doctorwholover - I have every plan of continuing it. And Erik finding her is only a small part of the story... This is a going to be a longgg ride.**

**Anawey - Hope you got some fluffy Erik. More in store. Hehe**

**Christine - Oh really? Haha what a coincidence. And thank you. :)**

**Debkay - Fortunately, no magical lasso found me. But I did update pretty quickly (for me), and plan on doing so as much as I can. You can uncross your fingers for the time being... But I think you'll have to start crossing them again when the next few arrive.**

**Eleadnor - Thank you for the lovely review! And I hope I did Erik's character justice, although I really only got to one side of him in this chapter. I promise this Erik will not be a complete ball of fluff, he does have a darker side. But he will ALWAYS love Christine. ALWAYS. *clears throat and tries not to stab RC lovers***

**Nightfall26 - Thank you very much and I hope you're satisfied with this characterization. **


	7. Never

**Wow! I am thrilled with the number of reviewers, and thanks to all of you whether it was your first time reviewing or not! There's nothing better or more encouraging for an author. -hugs- Just for that, I'm giving you all another fluffy chapter. (With some angst mixed in--hey, I never promised you a rose garden. Erik and Christine's relationship isn't that simple). **

**Now, I must address something: This chapter gets a tad bit heated. Using my movie-rating-as-a-guide messed up system, this would still fall under the PG-13 category. Because I figured I'd be one of those mean phanfiction authors who makes readers anticipate "The Scene" for as long as possible. Oh, come on. You know you love it. Hehe.**

**As usual, review responses at the bottom.**

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Erik returned to the carriage, still smiling. "There is an inn just down the way, in a little village called Meursault. It's nowhere near the grandeur of the Opera house, but it is all I can do for you right now. I apologize. Your safety is of the utmost importance to me."

Returning his smile tenfold, I was just happy that he was happy. I also recalled that Meursault was the same village Evie had mentioned to me earlier.... _Was it today, or yesterday? _I thought to myself. Time had played many tricks on me over the past few days, and I was not lucid enough to try and sort events into their proper order. "It could be a shack, Erik. I wouldn't care as long as I were with you."

An expression of intense love and adoration crossed the smooth planes of his unmasked countenance and warmed me to my very core. He entered the carriage with an almost inhuman grace and sat down across from me. A look of surprise flitted across his features as I crossed the small space and crawled into his lap. His muscled arms encircled me and I sighed softly. We had many things to discuss, but all of them could wait. Right now, I was happy to be in the arms of the man who held my heart.

Hesitantly, I reached a small hand up to trace the contours of his face, starting at his temple and dusting my fingers down to his cheekbone. It travelled to the soft skin behind his ear and he shuddered, eyes slipping closed. I drew back, wondering if I had hurt him in some way. He encased my hand in both of his and kissed my fingertips one by one. I drew myself up to resume my delicate stroking of his face, warning myself to stop if he shuddered again. He did, as soon as I touched his eyelid. Once again, I removed my hand from his face, looking worriedly into his eyes. "Erik?"

His eyes slowly opened, and I was startled to find them much hazier and darker than I had recalled. "Yes, Christine?"

"I fear I may be hurting you; your body quakes when I touch you."

The smile that reached his lips was full of love. "It does, _mon ange_, but not with pain."

"Oh," I said, blushing. _How embarrassing! _I thought to myself. As if he didn't already find me to be young and naive enough. I hung my head, pulling my hair about my face so he could not meet my eyes.

"Christine," his voice was soft and lilting and musical. "Do you think I command a vast knowledge of these things? Your innocence is endearing, and I hope you are not as disappointed with mine as you seem to be with yours."

I looked timidly out from my curtain of hair. "Nothing you do could disappoint me," I murmured.

He pulled me close, meshing my curled up body to his. "I love you," his breath tickled my neck and soon his lips were planting warm, wet kisses along its side. His mouth was like gentle silk against my skin, moving up and down again and again, sending warm shots of pleasure down my body. Much to my surprise, I shuddered.

Erik laughed against my skin, sending more tremors across my body. "I told you," he said lightly.

All of a sudden, I deeply regretted wearing a cloak, for his kisses had no place left to go. If I pulled it off, would he think me wanton? _Of course he will. _Did I want him to think me wanton? _A different question entirely._

Without thinking, my hands moved to the bow of my cape and I attempted to untie it. Erik's hands once again grasped mine and he looked into my eyes longingly. "No, Christine," was his confusing utterance.

My face turned bright red. _So he did think me wanton._

"_Mon ange,_ I would not stop. I could not stop."

I smiled. "The problem...?"

"Is that you are too good for me," he said under his breath, his voice hoarse.

My heart most definitely broke at that moment, and I kissed him. It wasn't a kiss full of depth or of longing or of passion; rather one of comfort and kindness. I tried to desperately transfer some of my strength over to him through our personal embrace, make him see that he was loved, wanted. He withdrew from my lips, but I kept my head tilted up, gazing into his loving jade eyes. "I love you."

He set to once again stroking my hair with his long, deft fingers. "How?" His tone was just above a whisper and I resisted the urge to cry.

"How did I fall in love with you?" I questioned, my hand on his chest, feeling the exquisite, steady beat of his heart.

"No," Erik said. "How can you love me?"

The tears I had been concealing spilled forth. "Why would you ask such a question? I love you because you were a guide to me all those years when I had none. I love you because you compose beautiful music and stirred music within my very being. I love you because you are brilliant beyond imagination, compassionate enough to leave a man you hate unscathed, and handsome enough to make me burn with longing." _Where did that last part come from?!_

He did not seem to notice, though. Instead, his expression remained guarded and aloof. "I've killed men before."

"I know," was my response. "And we shall discuss those things later. But no matter what, Erik, I will always love you."

He looked away.

"Do you understand me?" I was choking back, or rather on, my tears now, trying to make him comprehend my devotion.

His eyes were unfocused. Logically, I took this opportunity to pummel his chest. Not hard enough to leave marks or even hurt, but I would do anything to get his attention. "ERIK! LOOK AT ME!"

He turned his teary eyes to mine, sadly. I grasped his face almost roughly in my hands, forcing his face only inches from mine. "I've fallen in love with a fool! For you are one if you can look into my eyes right now and honestly tell me that you aren't looking at the woman who longs to share the rest of her life with you, and only you!"

My enthusiasm seemed to catch him off guard, and his gaze softened considerably. "Don't cry, Christine, please don't cry."

"That's b...beside the point!" I was blubbering now, like a child. "You k...know I always cry!"

He frowned. "You needn't."

"I will continue to cry until you admit to me that you know I love you!"

He grasped me tightly, pulling me close and cradling me, rocking me. I whimpered into his shoulder, my tears wetting his impeccable black suit. Somehow, I didn't care. It all felt too good. "It seems, my dear," he said into my ear, warm air rushing against my exposed neck, "that I am loved by a very stubborn woman."

I looked up, and unexpectedly crushed my lips to his, my heart beating wildly beneath my breast. Even through all his layers, I could tell his was as well. My mouth drank in his sweet taste, and I felt his tongue run across the seam of my lips. Not really knowing what to do but going with what I felt, I opened my mouth to him. I gasped when his tongue touched mine, and I pressed my body flush to his, running my hands down his chest and back up again. Our kisses were getting hotter by the moment, and I soon felt the urge to swing one leg over his lap and straddle him. I did, and deepened the kiss at the same time. As I moved to sit in his lap, I felt a strange pool of hot wetness at the apex of my thighs, accompanied by a dull ache. The sensation, though, was more pleasant than painful, and as I settled into him, I felt a strange hardness under me as well. It was an alarming but intensely exciting feeling, and I only knew I wanted more. He broke our kiss and groaned at the contact, gritting his teeth, picking me up and sitting me down next to him.

"Erik?" I asked, wondering if he could sense the disappointment in my tone. From his wry smile I could tell he did.

"You may love me, Christine," he began, panting between words, "but you have no idea the capacity of my love for you. And I could never forgive myself if I showed it to you now, in a carriage, without a ring on your finger."

I nodded my understanding. What had happened to the good Christian girl, raised under the strict eye of Madame Giry?

"Besides," Erik added, "you are still weak and wounded from the horrible events you've undergone. What kind of man would I be to take advantage of a lady in distress, even one as beautiful as you?"

Laughing, I said, "One who I would enjoy getting to know."

The carriage stilled, then, indicating our arrival in Meursault. "Christine," Erik said cautiously, "you may find some difficulty in walking. I have no idea the extent of your injuries, but do not try anything too bold."

"You must think I am some frail little girl," I said in mock indignance, moving to exit the coach. "I assure you, Monsieur, that I am quite capable of taking care of myself, and..." To my shock, I stumbled, the ground below the carriage rising quickly to meet me. That is, until I felt two strong arms around my waist, pulling me back to an upright position. He quickly swung me into his arms, carrying me bridal style, and lithely walked down the carriage's steps.

"You were saying?" A smile once again played on his full lips, and before I could pretend to swat him, my instincts got the better of me and I pressed my lips to his. It was a chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless, and I captured his bottom lip between both of mine, taking my time withdrawing from it.

"Christine," he breathed. "Do you know how you make me feel with a single kiss? This is where the problem lies; you are satisfied with one, and I would not stop at twenty."

"And I would?" I was taken aback with the boldness of my statement but liked the honesty of it.

I could tell Erik did as well, one of his magnificent eyebrows raising. "I have fallen in love with an incorrigible tease."

I giggled, burying my face in his neck. Feeling his pulse quicken, I planted a quick kiss there and asked him if we were going to keep walking.

"Oh, of course," he laughed nervously, and I could swear he blushed. "The inn is just down the way, and you must be so very cold. Forgive me."

It was actually quite the opposite; I was extremely, unseasonably warm, and I was sure it had nothing to do with plummeting temperatures. However, I would have dared not mention this to Erik; he had already called me a tease and I did not want him to think I was like any other chorus girl. It was a silly thought, I know. Erik had known me for ten years, and he most certainly understood that I did not adhere to the moral code of most of my peers. I reasoned correctly that when one is in the beginning stages of love, it is supremely important what the other person thinks of you, how they perceive you. Therefore, I resolved, I must be very careful with what I say to Erik, and only show him the utmost encouragement and compassion.

We walked the short way to the inn, talking little as Erik probably had to concentrate on not dropping me due to the icy path. It was a small but quaint place, with a neat, finished exterior and a warm and cozy interior. A plump older woman whom I liked instantly arrived when we entered the foyer.

"Hello there! How do you do?" Her accent was that of a woman who had been raised milking cows and planting crops. As she wrung them together, her hands further proved she was accustomed to honest, hard work. I immediately felt ashamed that she saw me in my vulnerable, frail state.

"Oh, my," she said, before either of us could respond, "Is the little lady alright?"

"Madame," Erik said grandly, somehow managing to kiss her hand and hold onto me at the same time. "My name is Jacques and this is Gabrielle. And, no, unfortunately, she is not alright. On the way to Paris for our honeymoon we had briefly departed from our carriage for a stroll in the park and she took an awful fall."

Her eyes showed concern that only a mother could have. "Dear me," she said as if I had died, "has she seen a doctor?"

"Thankfully, I am a physician by trade and I am able to tend to her. However, it would hardly be acceptable to do so in the snow. We happened by your inn on the way back to the coach. I would only take up a room for a night, and then we can be on our way, so I would be greatly obliged if you welcomed us into your lovely home for the time being."

Well, the woman was obviously a bit taken aback with Erik's debonair nature, from the kissing of her hand to the dashing explanation of our situation to his intimidatingly handsome and mysterious appearance. One thing he did not know was how to cater to an audience. Erik understood more than anyone I had met about music, architecture, and art, but he knew little about the affairs of conversation and interaction. Something I would gladly teach him.

She paused for a good while, seemingly interpreting the information. "Of course," she murmured. And then, in a more confident voice, "And congratulations on your marriage. You two make an enchanting couple."

I smiled, judging it was my time to talk since I had cleverly remained mute for the duration of the conversation. "Thank you," I said not too demurely. I had to remind myself that she was a farm woman and not a city one, so my typically submissive traits would be as foreign to her as Erik's chivalry. "We were hoping for a direct route to our honeymoon, but apparently not. It figures I would fall at a time like this. I thank you for understanding. What did you say you were called?"

"Oh, everyone around here calls me M, short for Marie. Or mama, however you want to put it. Yes, ma'am, I have seen ten healthy children in and out of this home, not a smallpox scar on one!" She beamed, evidently proud.

Erik remained silent. Was he upset with her mention of scars, or did he simply not have anything to say? I would have to inquire later.

"That is wonderful, Marie," I said carefully. "There is no greater gift for a mother, I have heard, than healthy children."

"None whatsoever, Miss Gabrielle. And I have no doubt you two will soon have healthy, beautiful babies to brag about for yourselves! But I am afraid I have taken up too much of your time, and I think I'd better walk you to your room now."

The decision was made then and there. Someday, I would love to be able to make decisions so quickly and boldly without worrying about others' opinions or implications of my actions. And, someday, I would love nothing more than to have a house full of beautiful, healthy babies.

We walked in mostly silence to the short second floor room. Marie let us in, with a quick, "If either of you need anything, please don't hesitate, just ask old M! My husband will be back for supper time, and I am making a lovely pot roast tonight!"

She bustled off, humming down the hallway, leaving Erik and me alone at the threshold of the door. He swiftly crossed it, swinging the door shut and placing me softly down on the bed. With a quick kiss on my head, he said, "I must tend to the fire before you freeze, _mon ange._" Indeed, Marie seemed to have equipped us with the best room of her humble inn, complete with a fireplace, a four poster bed and a small area for chairs and tables. I watched appreciatively as Erik bent down to the logs next to the hearth, muscles straining against his black suit. He reminded me of a some sort of wild cat that I had read about in novels; something powerful and untamed, yet intelligent and loving. At that moment, I wanted to leap across the room and kiss him until he was gasping for air, press my body to his and feel his hands at my curls. _How could you think this, Christine? Are you not a Christian, God-fearing woman? What has happened to propriety? _This was a valid question, one which I was not sure of. Perhaps propriety for me had vanished during _Don Juan _just nights ago. For some reason, I did not wish it to return. Which was what shocked me more than anything else. I pushed the evil thoughts from my mind. _You are being self-centered. His thoughts are not of ravishing you, I am sure. He needs comfort, not passion._ Although I managed to quiet the sinful voices in my mind telling me to do unimaginable things to him, I was unable to steady my pulse that beat so wildly below the fabric of my cloak.

He must have seen me staring, for when he was done he asked, "Is everything alright, Christine?"

Rising up from the bent position, he afforded me a view of his tight, rounded bottom through his clinging black pants. "Yes," I said, my voice come out hoarse and breathless. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat.

"You do not sound well," his tone was concerned as he inspected me. "And I have not the proper medicines for you. Fortunately, there is an apothecary in this small village who I am sure will have all the necessities."

I nodded. Medicine was the last thing on my mind. I removed my cloak and laid it neatly on the bed. "Are you leaving now?" I asked, hoping he was not.

"No," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "But I have yet to see your wounds. If they are bad enough I will have no choice but to depart. Preferably, though, I will leave at supper when you are safely downstairs with the innkeeper and her husband to watch over you."

"Erik, they are nothing, honestly. Scratches, mostly, and you know how I overreact."

Once again, he raised a perfect black eyebrow. "I also know how much you can endure. I refuse to take any chances. If there's a God out there, He has offered me an extraordinary gift, one which I don't want even the smallest scratch on."

My eyes filled with tears, and he walked over to the bed and sat down beside me. I wiped the tears away angrily as I looked into his eyes, startled by the sheer beauty of his face that was lit up by the fire's glow. I wondered if he saw that same beauty in mine. Maybe he did, as he reached a thumb out to tentatively trace my lip, brush the tears away from my face, bring a curl from my back to the front of my shoulders. He entwined it in his fingers and placed a kiss to the unruly little monster, made frizzy by the dry of winter.

I was almost startled as he kissed me, letting out a light moan. Returning the kiss, I recognized passion again stirring between us, passion he perhaps wanted after all. I pressed my hands to his suit, running them up and down the length of his torso as he continued to feast on my mouth. Our tongues were soon intertwined, innocent kisses turning heated. Erik groaned into my mouth, pressing a hand to my hair, kneading the curls there. My back arched wildly and I threw my head back, gasping for breath. Before I could resume kissing Erik he delicately planted his lips on my throat where my pulse would not be still. I let out a ragged breath, and my hands fisted in the white, ruffled fabric of his dress shirt. Just as his mouth began to move deliciously up to my ear, there was a sharp rapping on the door.

Erik withdrew, his hair mussed. Both of us were positively breathless. Looking up at the cieling, he seemed to hold his breath and then slowly exhaled, his hands on his hips. He smiled a little half smile at me before striding to the door and opening it, thoughtfully blocking the entry with his tall frame.

"I'm sorry if I... er... disturbed you in some way, but I just wanted to let you know that supper is being served and you are welcome to join us," Marie's voice was as warm as the fire in her hearth.

"Thank you," Erik said shortly, and quietly shut the door.

All of a sudden, a sharp pain stabbed at my side near my rib cage, and I could not help but cry out and clutch at it.

"Christine!" Erik called, crossing the room in two bounds. He returned to my side, taking both my hands in his. "What is it?"

"It is nothing, Erik, honestly. I'm bruised and that is all," was my pitiful reply.

"Christine, _mon ange, _it is time for me to venture into the village in search of some relief to your ailments. I do not wish to worry you, but I want to see your situation before things start getting out of hand. Please, go downstairs and eat something, you must be absolutely starving."

"What about you?" I asked, brow furrowed. "Surely you have not eaten in a while either."

He kissed my forehead. "I will be fine, Christine. You must worry about yourself. I am perfectly capable of eating something when I get hungry."

Frowning, I searched his gaze for any reluctance to leave. When I found none, I kissed him languidly on the lips, ending with a breathy sigh. "Don't forget to come back," I whispered.

"Never," was his immediate response. "Goodbye, Christine. I love you." And, with that, he was out the door of the room.

I stayed at the window of the chamber until I saw his elegant form treading on the snow, making speed on the short path to the charming village hollow. With a sad sigh for being parted with the love I had just been reunited with, I turned on my heel and left the room for supper.

***

I was hit by a strong sense of domesticity that I had only experienced as a little girl. At the Opera, we were privileged in many respects, but the luxury of a normal family was denied to us.

"Hello," said a short, wiry man about the same age as Marie. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Marie here told me you were lovely but you are truly a fine beauty! Your husband is a lucky man indeed." Coming from other men, I would have found that comment somewhat flirtatious, but it held no such meaning for this man. Maybe it was because he recited it the same way a father would to a daughter, and I took it as a great compliment.

"Thank you," I said, suddenly shy. "It's very nice to meet you. I am Christine."

Both of them gave me extremely puzzled looks, and I mentally kicked myself for using my real name instead of the alias Erik had created. "Oh," I covered, "Jacques introduced me as Gabrielle, didn't he? I forgot; Christine is my middle name, and it is what I have preferred to go by since I was a small child." _Thank God you remembered Erik's alias, that could have been a tricky situation indeed._

The couple did not seem fazed at all by this strange admission, instead smiling and saying in unison, "Christine it is."

***

Dinner was superb. I was used to the quick, cheaply made food at the Opera instead of home grown and slow cooked meals. Even more, I enjoyed the easy conversation that had flowed between the three of us, something also lacking from my time at the Opera. Once I had stuffed myself to the brim, I politely excused myself and asked if I could look around the main rooms of their home, which had several interesting antiques. In truth, I did not want to return to the room alone, leaving myself to worry about Erik.

As I entered the small living room, studying a cabinet of plates and silverware, I heard a voice behind me. "Christine," it said, and I whirled around, my nerves still frazzled from everything that had occurred in the past few days.

It was only Marie, of course, and I was immediately embarrassed. They probably found me quite odd. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "It's been a long couple of days."

Marie just laughed. "I can see that, my dear. Do you mind if I have a seat?"

"Of course," I said honestly, grateful for the company.

Marie studied me thoughtfully for a moment, and then asked, "If this is not too personal, may I ask where that dashing husband of yours went?"

I startled at the word 'husband', but soon remembered that that was what Erik had said we were. It sounded so lovely, and I childishly hoped she would say it again. "It is not at all too personal, Madame. He has just gone out to the village to fetch some salves and bandages for my, my... fall." I had little practice at lying, and I feared that the word fall was less than convincing.

Marie nodded her head. "You two are lucky to have each other. I've only observed you together once, or, well, twice..." Her eyes glinted with a sort of inside joke and I remembered the way she walked in on us while we were in our room. Did she hear our moans, our ragged breathing? I willed my face not to turn red. Mercifully, she continued, "And I know true love when I see it. I wish you both the best of luck in life, whoever you are and no matter how you fell."

I looked down, not about to tell her anything but strangely relieved someone else knew we were not who we said we were, that we were not Gabrielle and Jacques, but Christine and Erik.

Before I could respond, the front door opened and Erik came bursting in, snow dusting his black suit and hair. He had several parcels clutched in his gloved hands, and his usually even complexion was ruddy from the cold. I stood up and rushed to him, and he enveloped me in his embrace, packages and all. The only reason I stepped out of it was because Marie was standing right there, despite the way she was pretending to dust in order to grant us privacy. I thanked her profusely for supper and gave Erik strict instructions to go to our room and warm himself by the fire.

***

I lightly tapped on the door, not wanting to disturb or scare Erik. He greeted me at the threshold immediately, and I giggled as he swung me into his arms. He had divested himself of his suit and was now clad only in a loose white dressing shirt. Ever so gently, he sat me on the bed on a cushion of pillows he had prepared.

"Wait!" I cried, offering him a bag.

He smiled, beginning to unpack the parcels. "What have you gotten me, _mon ange?_"

"Some supper," I said, "because I know you have no mind of eating for yourself."

Bowing his head in thanks, Erik said, "But I assure you I will. Just as soon as your wounds are tended to."

"Then I refuse to be examined until you provide your body with the nourishment it needs," I said obstinately, crossing my arms and pouting.

He took the bag from the bedside, and smiled, "You are too lovely to resist when you are stubborn, Christine. I will eat, if only to please you."

"It does please me," I said, "Only I am jealous that the food is so close to your mouth while I am not."

Laughing, he began to cut into the piece of meat I had brought up. "I did not know how injured you were, so I brought a variety of tonics and salves. Oh, and a surprise for you as well."

I clapped my hands. "I do love surprises!"

"It's the little one to the right," he said, gesturing at the parcels.

Eagerly, I got up and picked up the tiny package, wondering what it could be. I opened it and found a variety of delicious chocolates inside, each a work of art with its own specific shape. I kneeled behind him on the bed, wrapping my arms around his chest and burying my face in his hair. "Thank you," I said softly, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Of course," he murmured, finishing his dinner. I wanted to ask him why he ate at the bed instead of the small table provided, but was worried it would bring up a sensitive subject. So I kept quiet, rifling through my bag of delicacies and choosing one in the shape of a heart. Now, all of a sudden, I had a very interesting idea. Before questioning myself for the thousandth time that day if he would think me wanton, I rose from the bed and stood in front of him. Slowly, I licked the chocolate, reveling in the sweet taste but more so in how Erik stopped the walk he was now making over to the packages.

He slid into a chair, watching me, lips parted. I smiled and licked the chocolate again, sucking on the top and licking again, before taking a bite and slowly chewing, licking the cream filling off of my lips. Erik's breaths were audible now, and was fiddling with the fabric of his shirt as if it were too warm in this room. "Is the fire getting to you?" I asked, eating the remainder of the treat.

"No," he said rawly, clearing his throat. "But we should probably get to tending your wounds. I would not want them t...to..."

He trailed off as I sucked on my fingers, one by one, moaning lightly on the last thin digit. "They had chocolate on them," I explained. Where had I acquired this inner vixen?

"Oh," he said, crossing his legs. "Christine, there is a robe in the bathroom. You should probably put that on when you go to change."

Did he not want to see me naked? Did my body disappoint him in some way? I'd always been tall and thin, never voluptuous like Meg. I just nodded lightly, trying to remove the negative thoughts from my mind. I went to the bathroom to change, and caught a glimpse of just why he was crossing his legs as I passed his form on the chair. Perhaps the bulge in his pants meant he desired me, I could not be sure. But most likely not.

I sighed, shutting the door to the humble bathing room. There was a simple black robe of rough material, and after quickly removing my clothing I slipped into it, cinching it tightly about my waist. Stepping out of the room, I noticed Erik was busy setting bandages and salves out on the table. I smiled at him. "If this hurts I shall throw a fit."

He glanced at me solemnly. "If this hurts I will feel horrible. But you, my dear, will grin and bear it, as they say, because I would much rather have you experience a slight sting than get seriously ill due to infection."

"You always look out for me," I told him, sitting demurely on the bed, legs tucked under me.

Laughing, Erik said, "Oh yes. Always. Kidnapping would constitute that, no?"

"I did not protest once. Did you see me throwing lamps at you, kicking and biting and clawing you as I did Peter? You didn't kidnap me, you saved me. I am eternally grateful."

"Whatever did I do to deserve you?" He asked, a hazy look moving over his face.

I returned it, staring wistfully at his jade green eyes. "You taught me and cared for me and protected me and loved me. Is that not enough?"

He moved to my the bedside and kissed my hand, frowning when he saw the slightest incision on my wrist. "I'll be right back," he said quickly, as if it were a matter of pressing urgency.

Trying not to roll my eyes, I waited patiently for him to return with a tonic and a bandage. Erik encased my small wrist in his hand and smeared some of the cream onto my wound, gently caressing my skin in little circles so that it would absorb properly. The scrape had closed up so much by now that the tonic did not sting in the least and I was left to enjoy the light pressure of his musician's fingertips pressing into my flesh. A sigh escaped my lips.

"Christine, does it hurt? What is wrong?" His eyes were instantly worried.

I gave him a half-smile. "It does not hurt at all. My sigh was one of pleasure; your fingers are most gifted."

Erik's eyes looked down, up, to the side, anywhere but mine. "Oh, well... thank you." He cleared his throat and I tried not to giggle at his obviously flustered state. Was he this unused to being complimented? _Of course he is. He has lived in a basement for years, shunned to a life of solitude. The only person who he's received a compliment from __is you. _This revelation shocked me, and I resolved to praise him as often as I could.

Seemingly satisfied with my wrist, he delicately rolled up the sleeve of my robe, finding bruises along my elbow and upper arm. "There is nothing I can do for the bruises but let them heal, Christine," he said. "I am sorry."

My heart swelled, then, not because of pain from the numerous purple blotches on my arm but because Erik felt as if he was failing me. "They do not pain me," I lied, trying to make him feel better.

"You have never been a good liar, have you, my sweet?" His eyes glinted in the firelight and I looked away.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked, eyebrows raised. "Monsieur, are you insinuating..."

"That you are too kind and caring to tell me that you are actually in a great deal of pain because you think _I _will be upset?" Erik had turned serious.

I tried to look indignant, but it was hard to muster when his eyes melted my very soul. Willing my eyes not to tear up, I told him honestly, "I am in a great deal of pain. Just not in my arm. I think, though, there's a rather nasty cut on my ribs."

"Show me," was his immediate response. When I blushed, he said, "Please forgive me, Christine. I apparently cannot think before I open my mouth. I apologize. But we do have to find a way to get you better, so if you want to wait there is a physician in the village, if you would call her that, but I had little confidence in her ability and deemed her unworthy to take care of you. I'm so sorry, Christine. I will take you to her just as soon as it is safe enough to go outside..."

"Erik," I interrupted his tirade. When he did not seem to hear me, I repeated, "Erik."

"Yes, Christine?" he asked, looking at me hopefully.

"Erik, did I say no when you asked?"

He glanced at me. "You blushed."

"What did I tell you? I cry at the drop of a hat and blush just as easily. Now, just give me time to untie this and you can fix me right up."

His lips parted. "That's not a good idea, Christine."

"What do you recommend?" I queried, trying to maintain a light conversation.

Erik seemed to ponder this. "Well, you could go in the bathroom and take off your robe and hold it," he gestured at my chest, and I tried not to laugh, "there. And then only expose your side."

"Fine," I sighed, getting up once more to go to the bathing room. Really. What was he so afraid of? _He does not wish to see you naked. _I wished that the taunts of the chorus girls would not come back to me then, making fun of me for what used to a be a tall, gawky frame. Well, the tall part was still true, but I had thought the gawkiness disappeared. I had hoped. _Then why doesn't he want to see you without that robe? _I hushed the voice inside my head, briefly wondering if I were going mad. Then I reasoned that mad people probably did not question if they were mad or not, and went on with removing my robe.

Emerging from the bathroom completely naked save for the ample fabric covering my entire front, I marched over to the bed and sat down.

Erik's eyes were large and sad. "Oh, Christine," he murmured, delicately touching the cut surrounded by purple which ran across the side of my body.

I flinched, and he gently cupped my face in his hand and captured my lips for a sweet kiss. Longing to deepen it, I ran my tongue across the seam of his mouth. He pulled away, though, before I could gain entry. "Not now," was his short excuse.

"Not now because I don't have clothes on?" I blurted out.

He nodded, swallowing, gazing at a point on the ceiling. My heart plummeted to my stomach. _He is displeased._

"What don't you like, Erik?"

His eyes snapped to mine. "Pardon me?"

"I said, what displeases you? What is so wrong with me that you cannot bare to see my naked form?" I was hurt and making no attempt to hide it.

Erik laughed then, and I had never been more confused in my life. "Christine, _mon ange, _my innocent angel."

If I were not clutching the robe I would have crossed my arms, but now all I could do was demand, "What are you talking about, Erik?"

"Forgive me," he silenced his laughter, but a smile still glinted in his eye. "I am ashamed to say that quite the opposite is true. You are simply too beautiful for me to reisist. If you took that robe off, I would never be able to control myself."

I must have turned the brightest shade of pink imaginable. "Oh," I muttered, suddenly highly embarrassed.

Erik reached for the tonic, lightly tracing it down my ribs, making my skin tingle and sting and then go numb. It was an eerie feeling, and I reached out to Erik, tears in my eyes. He held me closely, stroking my hair, and I let the tears dribble down my cheeks and onto the fabric of his shirt. "Shhh, Christine," he murmured. "It will be alright."

As gently as possible, he dipped a long bandage in a different, more liquid solution and placed it on the long, shallow incision. I cried out a the feeling of the cold fluid, but Erik was at my side again, rocking me as if I were a child. "The worst is over, Christine," he said into my ear. "Now it will heal properly."

I sniffled. "Thank you, Erik."

"Thank me for what? You should be thanked, for sitting still while the monster touches you..."

He had intended it to be a joke, but something inside me broke and I threw my arms around him. "If you are a monster, then I wish all humans were monsters. They are the best kind." I hoped this approach would make him think differently, and I could not say for sure whether it had any effect. He just held me closer. "God, how I love you," he said into my hair.

"Don't let me go," I whispered.

"Never," was his soft answer. I pulled him down onto the bed of pillows with me. "Kiss me," I commanded, and I thought he was going to.

"Not until you put that robe on," he teased.

"Oh, fine, you stubborn man." I stood up and turned around. His breath audibly hitched at the sight of my naked back and bottom, and I slid the robe off and around me. Before putting it through my arms, I asked in a low timbre, "Are you sure you don't want me to turn around?"

"I beseech you not to," was his weak reply.

Deciding to be merciful, I quickly tied the garment around me and slid under the covers of the bed. I made sure to lie on my good side, flinching in pain as the sore one brushed against the cover. "Good night, Erik," I murmured sleepily despite the pain.

He scooted over to me, tucking an arm carefully around my side and bending his knees into mine. Lightly, he kissed my neck. "Sleep well, my love."

"I love you, Erik," I said.

I could have sworn I heard his breath catch in emotion. "I love you more than you know, Christine."

* * *

**A/N: Well. That was longer than I originally intended! 7,000 words, anyone?! :p Do you mind the lengthier chapters, or do you like them? I want to continue hearing your opinions; it's the best way to becoming a better writer and creating the most satisfactory story possible for you all. **

**Just to clear things up in case I get some questioning reviews: Christine is NOT schizophrenic! She simply has the typical self esteem issues of a woman who never had the security of parents to inspire confidence in her, coming off to her as a nagging voice. Christine has her problems, but in this phanfic a severe mental illness is not one of them. :p **

**Bwayphantomrose - First of all, thank you for your thoughtful review. Here is how I see it: Christine was obviously not happy to go with Raoul, seeing as she told Erik she would return to him. Therefore implying that Christine had accepted his actions. However, their relationship is definitely not going to be all fluff, because that's completely unrealistic. They've just found each other. Give them time to adjust to the newness of being in a sort of all-encompassing, passionate relationship. Erik and Christine still have much to discuss and a lot of issues to resolve, and those are being pushed aside right now because at the heart of it all these two are madly in love.**

**Jegsy Scarr - We will find out soon enough! And yes, I do like romance. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Debkay - Well, I've given them a two chapter break. Get those fingers ready again! Thank you for your review! I'm glad Erik was to your liking.**

**PhantomTwilighter2009 - Thank you very much. I hope you liked this chapter!**

**Nightfall26 - Aw, thank you! **

**Eleadnor - Thanks for continuing to review! And yes, I'm really trying to get their feelings right. **

**Anawey - If you like fluff then this was the chapter for you! Thanks for the review!**


	8. Free Will

**A/N: Hi again everybody! I'm glad to hear people are liking this story! Review responses are at the bottom, as usual. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and for those of you who do not, that's okay too, but I would much rather you did! Really! Best way for authors to get motivated besides Erik appearing next to them! Alright, enough of my griping. Onto the chapter!**

I awoke to a sharp pang in my side. Panicking, I clutched at it, only to come into contact with rough wool. A robe? What? Since when did I wear robes to bed? Then, the events of the day unraveled before me. Some relief was brought by knowing why the sudden pain occurred, and just before settling back into sleep, I sensed that there was a body against me. An arm wrapped around my waist. Knees pressed to mine. Slowly, cautiously, I turned around to see two closed eyes, full lips, unblemished skin, and a mask. There were no words to describe the feeling of absolute joy that I experienced upon awaking next to Erik, and I knew then that he was the one and only person I would ever want to open my eyes to in the morning.

The fact that he kept his mask on, though, troubled me deeply. Did he still feel the need to hide? Erik knew I had seen his face. Pulling the mask off right now was, of course, out of the question. I had learned that lesson the hard way. But bringing him to remove it on his own terms was something else entirely. I was not without an ability to persuade, especially when it was something I felt so strongly about.

"Did I wake you, Christine?" His eyes slowly slid open, and for a moment I was hypnotized by their green depths.

"No," I whispered, my head still turned to his. "How did you know I was up? Have you slept at all, Erik?"

He smiled. I would never get enough. "More than I usually do. How are you feeling?" His hand feathered over the harsh material of my robe, making it feel lighter on my skin.

"Like I am healing," I told him honestly.

Erik's brow furrowed. "Does it pain you tremendously?"

I reached out a hand to tenderly stroke the unmasked side of his face. "No, Erik. I once sprained my ankle badly at a ballet rehearsal. The worst of the pain was the day afterwards. I know this shall heal wonderfully, just as my ankle did. In fact, Madame Giry told me..."

"That if it is hurting it his healing," Erik finished. I must have looked startled, for he added, "I watched you the entire time. I apologize if it sounds odd, but if something were to happen to you, I would have never forgiven myself. Fortunately, you were in the very capable hands of Madame, who, I am quite sure, has seen worse than a sprained ankle."

I nodded in acknowledgment. "And does it not pain you?" I asked.

"What, _mon ange_?"

"Sleeping on your mask. Surely it is uncomfortable, pressing into your cheek."

"It is utterly bearable, Christine."

"But it bothers me," I said, "to wake to half a face and a white canvas!"

He laughed. "And it would be bother you even more to wake to a monster."

"STOP SAYING THAT WORD!" I suddenly screamed, tears in my eyes, throat flaming. "It is not funny, and it kills me a little every time it comes out of your mouth!"

"I'm sorry, Christine. Do not cry."

I turned fully over now and nestled into him. His arms immediately closed over me, and I felt indescribably sheltered and protected. "If you did, I would be forced to remove my robe," I whispered into his chest, trying to lighten the depressing mood I'd just created.

"You wouldn't dare," he whispered into my hair, a smile in his voice.

I giggled, nuzzling my head in his chest. "You would be surprised."

"You are a tease, my dear."

Looking up at him, I murmured, "I love you, Erik." I kissed his chin.

"I love you, Christine," he returned simply, hugging me close to him.

"Maybe in time you'll learn to like to take your mask off," I tried, returning to the subject.

He remained silent, but leaned down to kiss my hair.

"Erik?"

"I cannot promise you that, Christine." He sounded so small and vulnerable then that I reached up to stroke his face, softly fluttering my hands over his exposed nose, cheek, and eyelids. Tracing his lips softly, I rose to press my mouth to his ever so gently. I kissed his eyelid, heard his intake of breath. As I moved to delicately trace my tongue alongside his ear, I felt a hardness under my knee and peered under the covers, blushing at the straining fabric of his trousers.

"Oh, God, Christine, I am so sorry. This is hardly the time..."

I giggled. "It is alright, Erik. I really don't know what it entails anyway. Would you care to explain?" I looked up hopefully at him.

"Well..." He trailed off then, a wry smile approaching his countenance. "To be quite honest, I have no more experience than you, my dear. But, if you really must know, it just shows that I... Desire you. Very much."

"Hmmm. It happened last night, too, you know. When I was eating that chocolate."

Erik's hand went to his face, then, and he turned on his back. "I did not mean for you to see that. I truly have no self control. You are a lady and deserve to be treated like one."

"You are nothing but a gentleman to me, I assure you," I murmured. I wanted to tell him about my feelings of yearning for him, that odd yet wonderful wetness at the apex of my thighs and the coiling in the pit of my stomach. "And if it means you desire me, then I am extremely flattered."

"Nevertheless," he muttered. "It is completely uncalled for."

"I happen to like it!" I cried, and his mouth parted, and I thought the moment of silence would stretch for forever until we both burst out laughing.

I smiled up at him. "What happens if you touch it?" I asked innocently, eyes wide.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he said, honesty showing through his piercing gaze.

"I should try," I suggested, moving my hand to his trousers.

His laugh rang out around the room. "That would not be a good idea, Christine."

"I think it would be a lovely idea." My hand searched under the blankets for him, but he rolled deftly away and grasped my hands in his. Slowly, he kissed each of my fingertips, his tongue flicking out on the last little one. I let out a sharp breath. Feeling Erik's smile against my skin, I used my now spare hand to trace the hollow of his neck. It was his turn to exhale, and he pressed me close to him. I nuzzled my face in his chest, breathing in his scent. His arms went around me as if I were about to leave, cradling me as if I were a prized possession.

Upon breaking the embrace, I saw sadness in his eyes which quickly turned to delight as he found out my reasoning. I crushed his lips to mine in a heated kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth and twining my hands in his hair. Moaning into his mouth, I threw my leg over his hip and kissed him harder, molding his lips to mine and running my hand down his back. With a ragged breath, he seemingly tore his head away from mine, sitting up quickly. "Christine," he breathed, running a hand across his face. I felt my cheeks turn red, knowing he must think me to be very wanton and unladylike. "Christine," he began again, "Excuse me, but I must bathe now."

I was puzzled and slightly hurt by his abrupt and random response to what had transpired between us. Looking up at the cieling and taking a few more deep breaths, eyes closed, he stood up quickly and strode to the bathroom door, closing it behind him. It was not long before I heard the run of the water, and not long after that before I felt tears spring to my eyes. _What happened to a sense of propriety, Christine? Who is this woman? _

Yes, who was she? I had certainly never met her, and maybe Erik did not like her. Feeling more than a little dejected and very improper, I fell back into sleep.

***

My eyes opened to Erik brushing curls from my face. I sighed in contentment, nestling into the pillows. Still in that blissful state between awareness and dreams, I let my body enjoy the sense of being cared for so lovingly.

"Christine," I heard my name. Slowly, I focused my pupils on Erik's handsome countenance, marred only by his mask. "I did not want to wake you up, but I fear you must be famished. Would you like me to bring some breakfast up for you, or I could have the innkeeper do it?"

He was sitting on the side of the bed, fully clothed in his impeccable black suit. I took the other pillow and threw it over my head in a childish gesture of embarrassment. "What is wrong, _mon ange_?" Erik asked me, his tone worried. "Are you in pain again?"

Under the pillow, I shook my head. "No, I am simply ashamed," I told him.

"Whatever for?"

"Well," I said hesitantly, "you must think me to be unsuitably wanton and unethical and..."

"_What?_" Erik ripped the pillow from my face, his own features indignant.

My cheeks burned. "You said you needed to take a bath out of nowhere, and the only thing I could think of is that you were upset by my bold actions."

"Oh, Christine," he bent down to softly kiss my forehead. "It is I who should apologize, one for my rather rude exodus, and another for a shocking lack of self control. If I were to stay, I can guarantee you would not be treated like the proper woman you deserve to be treated like. I cannot trust myself in those situations, and I am truly sorry."

I could not believe my ears. "Oh," I stammered, unsure of how to respond. "I fear, then, that I am not the lady I appear to be, for if it entails having any sense of propriety, well, I am a bit lacking in that regard." I smiled shyly.

"You are the perfect blend between innocent angel and playful vixen, _mon ange_. Don't ever change on purpose."

At this, my stomach grumbled rather loudly, and I immediately apologized.

Erik hushed me. "Once again, I have failed to provide you with basic necessities," he mumbled, moving to the door. "I will be back in a moment."

"Alright," I said under my breath, for I was indeed extremely hungry. However, it pained me to know that just because I had a ravenous appetite he thought he failed me in some way. Would I ever teach him to think highly of himself? Through constant support and encouragement, would he not view himself as a monster? Did he even want to have a different outlook? There was so much to mend I did not know where to begin. Thinking I would bathe while he was downstairs, I moved to get up and went to the bathroom. Next to the tub was a rather plain but well-made dress which was obviously intended for me. Erik must have gotten it when he went into town the night before. He was always so considerate, doing things for me that I would never think of doing for him.

There was a rather shabby mirror near the sink, and upon looking at myself I quickly glanced away. Unruly curls stuck out at all ends around my face. My eyes were red and puffy from the frequent crying spells of last night and this morning, and dark bags had appeared under my eyes from a general lack of sleep. Deciding that a bath would be a fine idea, I quickly strode over to the tub and turned the handle. I was quite surprised that this remote little inn had running water. I would have to inquire about it later.

I undid my robe easily and slipped into the chilly water of the bath, dipping my head under the water and running my fingers over my scalp, trying to simultaneously brush and clean my hair. Remaining only in the water to briefly scrub my body with down with a thick hunk of soap, I soon stepped out of the extremely cold water and grudgingly put on my undergarments, corset and all. Just as I was lacing up my dress, I heard Erik enter the room with a concerned, "Christine?"

"In here!" I called quickly. "I'll be out in a moment." Hurriedly, I finished with the side ties of the light blue outfit and exited the bathroom. Erik greeted me with a small bow of his head, and I strode across the threshold and kissed him full on the lips. As I pulled away, Erik smiled and captured a wet curl in his hand. "I see you found your dress," Erik said softly.

I nodded. "Thank you. It was most thoughtful and the dress is quite lovely."

"When we are settled somewhere," he scoffed, "I shall buy you only the loveliest garments to adorn your frame. Ones that fit properly."

It was true; the dress was a bit large for my corseted waist, but I did not particularly care. If anything, it was more comfortable. "Nonsense," I whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth softly. As I withdrew, I saw his lips twitch and smiled in satisfaction. I eyed the plate of hearty bacon and eggs and glass of milk he'd brought up for me.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "How rude of me! I was a bit distracted," he smiled. "Please, eat. Look, I have even gotten something for myself," he said, gesturing to a similar plate.

I sat down, taking the fork and immediately tucked into my eggs. "It is not the best breakfast, certainly not worthy for a queen like you," Erik began, but I put a finger to his lips. "It is better than anything I had at the Opera," I assured him, taking a bite of bacon.

"Did you know that the man who runs this inn is an architect in his own right?" Erik's face lit up as he told me this.

"You two should talk," I said through a very unladylike mouthful.

"And here I thought he was just a simple farmer!" He seemed surprised.

"You know," I said, touching his hand from across the small table, "people are not always who you think they are, sometimes they are more and sometimes they are less. I do not know much, but I know that. Because you taught me."

Erik's jade eyes filled with such love and emotion that I wanted to lean over and kiss him. I probably would have if it weren't for the bacon. He cleared his throat and smiled. "I love you," he said softly.

"I know," I replied. "I love you, too."

I touched my foot to his under the table. His entire body twitched and his foot moved away quickly. I could not resist the urge to giggle, and he stood up, striding over to our packages and putting them in a kind of knapsack. As he walked the short distance of the room to gather up my other dress, he leaned into my neck and whispered, "You are a tease, mademoiselle."

I whimpered at the rush of hot air on my exposed skin, and I kissed his soft lips then, and he moaned lightly. Before I could kiss him once more he pulled away, stroking my cheek with the pad of his thumb. "As much as I would love to stay here all day," he said, "I do believe we must be on our way. It is in our best interest to leave."

"Leave for where?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

"I have a home in Switzerland, near Zurich," he said. "It was acquired long before I met you, when I was but a boy. I think you will love it, Christine. It is in the mountains but just a carriage ride away from the city. And I hear Zurich is developing a most fabulous opera, but if it is not to your liking we can always move to Vienna in Austria."

When I said nothing, his eyes showed the utmost sadness. "Christine? Do you not want to join me?"

"No, Erik," I said quickly. "Of course I want to. Why do you think I ran away from Raoul? It's just...."

"Just what?" he prodded.

"Just that there are so many people I will never see again."

"Madame Giry and the Little Giry, you mean? Madame knows of my home there, and I am aware that due to the destruction at my hands of the Opera, she is in need of a job. It will not be long before she and her daughter come to Zurich. Even before the disaster, she was dissatisfied with the condition the Opera was in and often voiced her disapproval to me."

My eyes must have lit up. "Really? Erik, do you think they will join us?"

"Well, I did give her an open invitation last summer. Granted, neither of us knew the Opera would burn to the ground, so I do believe that would only solidify her plan."

"Oh, Erik!" I got up from my chair and flew into his arms. "I love you so!"

He laughed that lilting, musical laugh, and without further adieu led me out the door of the room.

We thanked Marie and her husband very much for our lovely time here and Erik paid them a disproportionately large sum of money. As we walked out the front door, Marie squeezed my arm and winked. I smiled back.

***

"Christine," Erik said, helping me down the road toward the carriage, for I was still very weak, "did I introduce you to our driver?"

"I did not think so," I told him.

"Well," he said, leading me to the front of the coach, "this is Monsieur Acton, a most established driver. Monsieur Acton, this is my wife, Gabrielle."

I started at the name, and soon remembered that it was to be my alias for the time being. "Pleased to meet you," I said demurely.

The man nodded, and Erik told him to take the fastest route possible to Zurich, Switzerland.

"Zurich?" The man was evidently shocked. "With all due respect, I did not sign on for a trek. I said I would help you and your wife, not aid you in the journey of your life!"

Erik raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, and I wanted to reach up and touch it, but restrained myself. "I do not recall asking you to sign anything," he said, his voice cold. "We could always find another driver who would take less money. But then, that would leave you without a carriage to get back home, would it not?"

Erik awaited the man's reply. When he got none, all he said was, "Good. Well, then, I suppose we'll be on our way."

I felt his large hands grasp me around my waist and lift me to the carriage. He put me down on the seat opposite him, but I immediately crawled into his lap. Erik smiled at me, his arms encircling me, seeming to fit us together perfectly. "I found him in the street, begging for food. I asked him if he would be willing to drive a man and his new wife to safety. Although I am doing him a favor, he is unfortunately not the most compliant man I've ever met."

Of course he would find someone in a desperate situation and try to help him. "Erik," I said softly.

"Yes, _mon ange_?"

"I want you to know that I would have gone with you even if it meant never seeing Meg or Madame again." I buried my face in his neck.

"Of course you would. That's what happens when someone brainwashes you, kidnaps you." I looked up in surprised to find his eyes stormy. He slowly moved away.

"Wh- Erik! What are you talking about?"

"I manipulated you, Christine. Do not deny it."

Tears burned my eyes and my throat felt thick. "No, you did not! I came to you of my own free will and that is that."

"I've groomed you since you were a child to follow my every word. And I hate myself for it, but there it is." His eyes seemed to burn through me, and something dark flit across his countenance.

I grasped his hand in mine. "You've groomed me to be a singer, a proper lady, and a compassionate and understanding person. In no way have you brainwashed me!"

Erik stared at a point on the ceiling. "Oh, how I wish it were true."

"It is, Erik! It is! You can take it from me! And if you insist upon it anymore, I shall be forced to up and stop the carriage to make you believe me."

His eyes found mine, and my soul melted. I kissed his gloved palm. "I love you. And that can only be decided by free will."

But the look in his eyes was far from convinced.

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**A/N: Hello again! Okay, so this chapter was pretty fluffy too, but in my opinion good stories have all the elements. There's going to be some high drama and action in this phic, but also a lot of romance. I'm not hearing any complaints as of right now, though. Please, let me know what you think. It means the world to any author, even if it's not all praise.**

**Here are the review responses (not as many this time, ahem):**

**Eleadnor - Thank you for the extremely thoughtful review! I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and I hope the characters are still to your liking. As an answer to your question, I do not want to give away too much, but you will be seeing a MUCH darker Erik as some of his issues are explored and Christine, being stubborn, prods a bit too deep.**

**Debkay - Why thank you! And yes, it is killing him. Erik is one sexually frustrated person as of right now. Then again, so is Christine. :)**

**Anawey - Thanks! And I do too- who doesn't like to see the always dignified Erik get flustered once in a while? :p**

**Doctorwholover - Thank you very much! **

*****For all of you who have been reviewing, thank you! For the, let's see, 600+ of you who do not, maybe you could just try? Once? Need I beg? :D*****

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	9. Waiting

**Wow! I'm so thrilled with the number of new people who chose to review! Dare I say keep it up? ;) **

**And I'm reallyreallyreally sorry it's been a so long--swine flu got to me and I didn't get out of bed for like a week. College is not forgiving when it comes to making up quarter exams. This I have discovered. Just when I thought I had fully recovered, it relapsed because I threw myself back into classes and my job. That almost landed me in the hospital. So, although it has been a very long wait for all of you, it was not without reason. Despite this, I truly apologize! I think everyone knows it's not typical of me to make my readers wait for updates, so I feel horrible about this. Hopefully, this chapter will ease your pain a bit! ;)**

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"Erik," I asked, looking up at him, "tell me how you got your house in Switzerland."

He gazed straight ahead, expression cold. "A wealthy opera-goer gave it to me."

"But, why?" I was confused both by his quick response and his steely countenance.

"Because," he said through gritted teeth, "the man got lost in the hallways of the Opera. I was fourteen at the time. He saw me there, in the corner, drawing. The first time anyone besides Madame had ever seen me. I was afraid, at first, that he would beat me, hurt me. Then I remembered I had my mask on." Erik was speaking in short, choppy sentences. Clearly, this was emotionally difficult for him. "The man peered over at the picture I had been drawing of a stage prop and told me I had a great gift. It turned out that he was a prominent benefactor of the arts in Zurich. The man asked me to draw more things: His face, my hand, even a rat. As I was drawing the rat, I started to hum, hoping to console the poor creature, destined to a fate of either slaughter by Buquet or starvation inside the Opera. The man, Monsieur Girard, then told me I had a beautiful voice and asked me where I had learned the song. Well, you can imagine his surprise when I informed him that I had composed it. Monsieur Girard told me that there was a house available in the mountains outside of Zurich for either an artist or composer willing to do work for the arts in the city. Since I was both, the man asked if I would like to be the recipient of this exclusive offer. I wholeheartedly agreed, seeing it as an opportunity to leave the bowels of the Opera and start a new life. We planned that I would come when I was twenty."

I stroked his jaw, but his body went rigid. He was evidently very distraught. "Why didn't you go?" I asked softly.

Erik smiled down at me. "Because the week I turned twenty, a certain little girl came to the Opera. And her sad eyes and even sadder heart were enough to keep me where I was for the time being."

I could not help it; tears ran down my face at this discovery. Erik had stayed at the Opera because of _me_? He had forgone a life of luxury doing what he loved best because of _me_? I felt sick. "Erik," I choked out, but could not finish the rest of my sentence. I clung to his suit and cried into his chest, and he hesitantly stroked my hair.

"Shh, Christine," he whispered into my ear. "I'm still going, just ten years later than I originally intended." I knew he meant this to be somewhat funny, but it only made me feel worse. My sobbing was uncontrollable.

"Christine," he said softly, turning my face to his. "Please, Christine. Do you know how guilty I felt when I realized you'd left Raoul for me? That you had left a man who would always bring you happiness for a monster?"

I glared at him for saying 'monster' but did not mention it and instead nodded. "But that was because I loved you. It was no hardship for me."

Erik smiled at me. "And I knew that without your love, I could compose to my heart's content, paint until my fingers went numb; if it wasn't done for you, I would forever be unhappy."

I kissed him, then, lips trembling and shaking from the tears which had just wracked my body. Erik's strong hands pressed me to him, and I felt so very safe in his embrace.

After a long while of this, I asked him, "When will we get married?"

"Once we're in Switzerland, _mon ange_. I could not risk it until we have departed from France. There is no time to waste."

"But I want to get married now," I whispered into his neck.

He let out a shuddering breath, hands stroking up and down my back lovingly. "I wish we could, Christine."

***

The carriage pulled to a halt outside another small village, allowing us a break for lunch. Erik was pleased with the headway we were making, saying we would be out of France in a matter of days. Our carriage driver was less than happy, and Erik seemed to sense this, slipping the man money but never being overly genial. It always surprised me to see him with strangers; he was so guarded and different than when he was at ease with me.

Two days later, we were getting ready to depart from another small inn. Erik told me he had to leave for a moment, and I was puzzled but excited about the strange announcement. Deciding to busy myself, I chatted for a while with the innkeepers. When Erik had not come back, I helped them with a few chores, pleased that I could aid the hardworking folk. Still, he had not returned. Concerned, I wandered back to the carriage and was about to peer inside to make sure he was not waiting for me. Instead, I was distracted by the sight of our driver, Acton, who seemed to be sketching in a journal of sorts. There was a rather lovely scene of the village and its winding winter road, but I thought it odd for him to be drawing when he could be tending to the horses. Approaching him, I timidly said, "Hello, Monsieur. May I see what you are sketching?"

He seemed to be terribly surprised even at my quiet query, as he slammed the little book shut and slipped the pencil he was using away. His face was the utter depiction of shock, as if I had told him I was his long-lost daughter. Acton's countenance quickly shifted to happiness, though, for some reason I was unable to explain. "Monsieur?" I said again, even softer. Was I safe around this man? Erik had found him in the streets! What on _earth_ was I doing?

"I'm sorry, Madame," he said in a rather hurried manner. "I'm not used to beautiful young women striking up a conversation with me." His obvious attempt at flattery only served to confuse me more.

"Thank you," I said nevertheless. "But what were you drawing?" I was never known for my patience.

"Oh," he muttered, eyes not meeting mine, "nothing for your lovely eyes to see. But the trip has gone well, I presume? I daresay you'll be in Switzerland in just a few short days."

I nodded, uncertain. "Yes, you are a wonderful driver. And an artist, too?"

The look on his face was one I was very used to receiving. It clearly stated _Will she just give up already?_ "As I said before, Madame, I am no artist. Well, I would love to be one someday, but _non_, not an artist by your standards."

By the standards of a girl who had lived in an opera dormitory her entire life? Why did everyone I came into contact with think me to be some sort of royalty? All I said was, "I am an awful artist and anything is good by my standards. Erik, on the other hand..."

"Erik?" the man asked, one eyebrow raised.

"My brother!" I said too loudly and quickly, cursing myself yet again for forgetting our aliases. _You have one job, Christine. One! You just have to ruin it, don't you?_

Acton nodded slowly. "You must be very sad to leave him back in Paris," he said.

"He's married with children," I forced myself to calm down. "And he's much older than I am. More like an uncle than a brother."

"Ah," was his only response. He opened that book again, and I darted to see what was on the page. His quick hands closed it, and I was left with the brown leather cover. However, what I had glimpsed was not a picture at all. It was writing.

"You're a novelist, then?" I asked, honestly interested in just what our driver was doing.

"No," he said tersely. "I am a pauper, my dear. I cannot read or write."

Before I could inform Acton that I had indeed just seen a page of words written by him, my mind got the better of my heart and I decided to hold my tongue. Erik would know better how to handle the situation, I figured. However, I suddenly felt very uncomfortable standing alone with him. Perhaps it was due to my recent attack, or maybe it was that he was withholding some kind of information from me. Or, worse, it was my instinct telling me to leave because it sensed I was in a dangerous environment before I did. So I followed it, walking the path to the town, glancing over my shoulder for some inexplicable reason. This must have looked ridiculous in the light of day, but I wanted to be positive I was safe.

It was not long until I saw a tall black figure moving up the white road. I did not have to see his face to know it was Erik; my very being felt a pull toward him. Something compelled me to run at him, which must have been a little odd. Odd, however, had never stopped me, and as soon as he noticed my fast approach he opened his arms and in a few large strides had crossed the distance between us.

I embraced his strong torso and rested my head against his chest. Pulling his cape around us, Erik said, "I had no idea I would be so sorely missed." His smile made my heart take flight, and I looked up at him, capturing his lips in mine. The sound that emerged from him seemed to be one of surprise. I smiled against his lips and plunged my tongue into his mouth, standing on my tiptoes and kneading my hands in his hair. To my shock, he pressed me closer to him, grasping my back. As I let out a quiet mewl, he gently pried my face away from his.

"I'll not have you catching cold," Erik said, touching my chin, his green eyes burning me. I nodded, speechless.

"Maybe," I started, biting my lip, "we could continue in the carriage?"

He laughed. "If you so wish, my dear."

Noticing a package in his hand, I tapped it. "And what has my charming fiance here?"

"Later," Erik smiled.

My eyes widened. "Later?" Erik wrapped an arm around me and we continued down the path. He said nothing, just looked ahead, with that knowing gaze.

When we reached the carriage, he chivalrously helped me in and told Monsieur Acton to continue down the road. As soon as we were moving, I grabbed for the parcel. His lightening fast reflexes were quicker than I, however, and he clutched it to his chest. "You will just have to wait, _Mon Ange."_

I sat back in the plush seat, pretending to pout. "I do not favor waiting."

"Ah, but you will favor what I have for you here, my dear Christine. And waiting will make it all the more special."

I knew Erik's mind was just as hard to change as mine, so I kept quiet, continuing to cross my arms and furrow my brow. Erik gave me a little half-smile. "I am not at all bothered by your persistence, you know. You will not get me to tell you what I got you by making faces and crossing your arms."

I said nothing, but struggled not to giggle. "I shan't ask you to stop, however," he purred, "because it is really quite adorable."

At this, I could not help but smile and turn a bit red. "Erik," I muttered, trying to keep up the facade that I was still frustrated, "did you know that the man you hired to drive us is an artist?"

His face showed utter bewilderment. "I did not," he murmured, looking intently into my eyes. "How did you come into this knowledge?"

"Actually," I said, not answering his question, "he may be a novelist as well."

"Well, that comes as a surprise," Erik laughed, looking amused.

I nodded. "He has a book of drawings and writings which he works on, but he would not let me see..."

"Christine," Erik said, leaning across the carriage to cup my face in his hands. "I do not know him. He could be the best artist in the world, but I would appreciate it if you did not make an effort to strike up conversation, or even near him when I am not with you. God, Christine, I got him off the street! He showed me his children and told me he would gladly take me anywhere I needed to go because he had four mouths to feed. I did not hand pick him for being a gentleman of honorable intentions, although I admit I was a bit swayed by the presence of his children. Maybe it's best for me to no longer leave you alone..."

I had melted to a puddle of wax as he touched my face. "Perhaps," I said breathlessly, "if it means I could be in your embrace all the time."

Erik's smile was tender and gentle as he caressed my lips with his thumb. "Did you see what he was drawing, my sweet angel?"

"He was writing this time." I could barely talk for the sensation shooting from my lips to the pit of my stomach.

"Odd," Erik raised an eyebrow. "I've never met a street man who could write before. I shall have to inquire about that."

I nodded before brushing Erik's lips with mine. "I want to get married," I whispered against his mouth.

"And I," Erik said, equally softly. "More than anything."

"We could stop..."

"No," Erik said, surprising me with the roughness in his voice. I must have looked taken aback, for he said, "I apologize. You must believe me when I say I want your hand in marriage, Christine. But it is too risky to have our names on record as married when we are still in France. I would never forgive myself if I got us caught, for then I fear you would be implicated as well."

A sudden feeling of sadness overwhelmed me. I reached out to him and he kissed me lightly. I sighed, saying, "Erik, why is everyone against us?"

He smiled, but it did not appear to be one of genuine happiness. "Because you are a beautiful young woman and I am an ugly old man, I suppose. That pairing is never very popular."

I glared at him. "You mean like Andre and Firmin with their chorus girl friends? For I dare say you are much more attractive than either of them. Not as old, either."

He laughed a bit, instantly improving both our moods. "I suppose it isn't so much my age, rather it is my grotesque countenance which so repulses people."

My typical reaction would have been to break down and sob at such an untrue and horrible statement, but it seemed as if it did him no good. So I tried a different approach. "Erik," I said seriously. "You are the most handsome man I have ever met."

"Do not mock me, Christine," Erik said, his tone becoming colder.

My eyes widened. "I would never," I said honestly. "When I first saw you, I was sure you weren't real. Your jade green eyes, your flawless skin," I felt my hand reaching behind my neck, because all of a sudden what used to be a chilly carriage was terribly warm. "Your eyebrows, which showed me what passion meant," the hand reached my neck, stroking it up and down, "and your lips." The word 'lips' came out as a moan, and I was instantly embarrassed.

Erik cleared his throat, crossing his legs and sitting back in his seat. "I can't imagine how much your hopes were dashed when you saw me unmasked." His voice was still tight and strained. I desparately wanted to help him, but I had no idea how.

"Quite the opposite," I stated, maintaining my calm composure. "Your face is what makes you unique. It differentiates you from any man I've ever met. I mean it when I say I would not trade your face for the world. It is beautiful, Erik."

Erik looked at me with a mixture of awe and gratitude in his eyes, which were glistening with tears. "I love you, Christine," he said earnestly, his steely tone evaporated.

"And I you," I murmured.

As if I were but a child, he gathered me into his arms. I nestled into his embrace, and we contented ourselves with endearments of love and devotion for the remainder of that day's travels.

***

By the time we had arrived at our inn for the night, Erik had me held in a wonderful suspense about what his surprise could possibly be. He scooped me out of the carriage and into his arms, walking us down the snowy path to the inn. "I fear I shall grow lazy and accustomed to you carrying me," I giggled.

"If it were up to me, I would never put you down," he said, returning my smile.

When we reached the door to the home, Erik reluctantly put me down and went through his usual explanation about how we got where we were. It was a bit odd to be referred to as Gabrielle, but it would have to do for the time being. _Things will be different in Switzerland_, I reminded myself.

Looking around, I was shocked with the finery of the place. It looked like a Parisian hotel! Upon inquiry, Erik smiled secretively and told me he wanted this night to be special and had asked around in the small village we'd been in if there was a rentable country home in close proximity. _Erik rented a country home?! _I thought to myself, thinking of Raoul's massve "country home" that I had visited not so long ago. I knew that nobles who were in debt often rented the impressive estates during the summer season maintain an acceptable status. But the thought that Erik would rent a room in one for the two of us? It was beyond touching. This man continued to amaze me.

Erik banged open the door to our room, twirling me in his arms and setting me down on the plush bed. Normally, both of us were so tired from the days travels that we fell asleep right away, knowing we would have to rise early. Tonight, Erik told me to make myself comfortable on the bed and he dashed into the bathroom.

Puzzled and a little distraught at his absence, I arranged the silken pillows and sat down, not at all comfortable without his warm body next to mine. After admiring the lovely furniature in our room, my ears heard water running and sighed, predicting he would not be emerging from his bath for a while yet, but looking forward to the droplets glistening off his neck when he came out. I wished he would remove his wig, at least, so I could run my hands through his wet hair... _Really, Christine!_ I chided myself for such inappropriate thoughts. I was not even married! What had gotten into me? Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus on the journey which stretched ahead of us rather than delicious images of Erik's soapy body.

To my surprise, though, he came out from the bathing room fully clothed, smiling and holding a rose. I must have looked confused, for he said, "Christine, when we were in the carriage that day after I saved you from Peter, I asked you to marry me in such haste. I did not have a ring, I did not get down on one knee... I failed to give you the respect you deserve."

I shook my head. "Erik, I need no finery or jewels or flourishes. Only you."

Smiling tenderly, he encased my petite hand in one of his. "And you have me. But I do not wish to give you jewels or finery if they are not what you desire. As I mentioned before, however, respect is something I will grant you every day of my life whether you want it or not. And it is with respect and an unimaginable amount of love that I ask you this." As he got down on one knee, tears filled my eyes. "Christine, I have loved you all my life and will until the day I die. I want for nothing more than to spend every day in your presence, every night in your arms, and every morning at your side. You are all I have ever loved or desired, and I hope you love me just a fraction as much. Christine Daaé, will you marry me?"

Tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks as he uttered his declaration of love to me. They spilled forth at an even more rapid rate as he procured a ring of three glittering diamonds encircled with a band of smaller ones. The overall effect was one of a subtly glimmering snowflake, yet not at all like the one Raoul had given me. I had never yearned for anything material from Erik, just having him by my side was enough. Yet this ring was far more meaningful than any gift I had ever received.

He slipped the ring onto my finger, looking at me hopefully, with a shade of doubt shadowing his features. Was he still afraid I would forsake him? Gazing into his eyes, I murmured quietly but intensely, "Erik, I've said yes before but I will say it again. I have loved you from the moment I first heard your voice. That love has grown and expanded over the years, and these past few days have only heightened my devotion for you. Yes, Erik. It would be my honor to be your wife."

Erik's smile was tremulous as he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. My hand went to his hair, and I was tempted to rip off his mask and wig and kiss his face like I so desired. _No, Christine,_ I thought to myself. _You learned your lesson twice before. Don't do it again._ So I kept my palm on his neck, slowly smoothing it down his back. My hands went to the buttons on his jacket, but he broke his mouth from mine. "Not yet, Christine," he whispered, his breath hot and short against my lips.

Standing up, he offered his hand to me, and I took it with a smile. He led me to the bathroom, where steaming water was waiting for me in a tub. I must have looked extremely surprised, for he said, "You have had a long, hard journey. There is still more to undergo before we are married, but you deserve to relax, _mon ange._"

An idea coming to mind, I glanced up at him from under my lashes, slowly walking over to his tall form. Lightly touching my hands to his shoulders, I leaned into his ear. "Stay while I bathe?" I asked, lingering to lick the lobe.

"Your offer is quite enticing, I must admit," Erik murmured, a smile spreading across his countenance. "But I must deny you this one thing. I promised myself I would not take your innocence until the night of our marriage. I will remain true to that vow, and I am sure that you will thank me for it."

"Erik," I began, "I didn't ask you..."

He put a finger to my lips, sending tingling sensations through my being. "Such things can lead to other things," he said, low and soft.

I nodded, looking down.

"All in good time," he smiled, making for the door. "I believe you will thank me for it, just as I am sure you were pleased with the results of your waiting for what was in that parcel I had obtained during our day in town."

As the door clicked shut with a mellifluous, "I love you, my sweet angel," from Erik, I thought about it. I was not thanking him for now, at least. Now, I wanted him with my entire soul, a sort of passion driving me like none I'd ever experienced. But had the words not just come out of his mouth? He respected me. And I must respect him and his wishes just as he respected mine.

With that comforting thought, I settled down into my luxurious bath, prepared by the man I loved with my whole heart.

**I actually did some *gasp* research for this chapter and found that in France in the later 1800s country estates were all the rage... Kind of like the Hamptons today. The aristocracy or wealthy families used to go there, (some obviously still do), during the summer and party it up. During the winter, to pay off debts and whatnot from living the high life, these families would rent their places out to people who could not afford one for their own. Perfect for Erik and Christine! ;)**

**Jegsy Scarr - I can't promise you that they'll get married REALLY soon. Lol don't worry I'm a shameless E/C lover as well and I will not do anything like kill off my main characters or turn Christine over to Raoul for good.**

**Eleadnor - Thank you! Yeah, I'm going to slowly bring out some darker facets of his very complicated character. He'll never be like some Eriks you read about, this Erik is at heart a gentle soul who has been damaged. He will always love Christine and do things that are in her best interest, but he will not be without the occasional tantrum or rage. **

**Anawey - Isn't he the cutest when he's insecure? :) Lol that sounds really mean to say but it makes for some good fluff. **

**Remat - Thank you! I'm glad you decided to review.**

**MoonlightDutchess - I'm glad you're liking this story! As for why Erik was in a brothel, that will be resolved in good time. And there was a reason. And no, it was not because he wanted to buy a prostitute. :D**

**Etoile du Bolshoi - Yeah, it is a kind of sexually-driven angst. Prepare for more. Lol thanks for reviewing!**

**Doctorwholover - Thank you once again for reviewing! :)**

**Debkay - I think I will win for the most relieved when they do "get together." Haha, the way I'm playing this I'm putting myself under a lot of pressure to make the scene AMAZING. I mean, when I started this out I in no way intended for there to be this much sexual tension, but after like the fifth chapter I pretty much said "I'll go for it!" Lol it's my own fault. And yes, the brainwashing thing, unfortunately, did not just go away. Erik's still horrified with himself for several things he has done. And sadly the guy has a breaking point. He can't stay fluffy forever, no matter how much everyone loves it. When will that boy realize to appreciate what he has and stop being such a downer just when things are happy? Can't say I blame him, though. :p Anyway, thanks for the continuous reviews. It means a lot!**

**Artemis1234567 - Thank you! I'm glad you think Erik is being kept in character, and I always appreciate reviews! :)**


	10. Emotions Revealed

**Hi again! I'm slowly starting to feel better. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to write in quite some time. My boyfriend's family has been going through some tough times since his mom got diagnosed with cancer, so the holidays were tricky and I had to be there for him and his parents. **

**So, this chapter is kind of short but it's very necessary.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing, it means a lot! As usual, review responses are at the bottom!**

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I emerged from the bath, wrapping a towel around my shivering frame. Quickly, I stepped into the main room, remembering I'd left my clothes at the door. Erik was in bed, and seemed to be writing in a sort of journal. I padded over to the bedside, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking at the page of music notes he was creating.

He slowly turned his head to mine, smiling lightly and bringing my hand to his lips.

"What are you writing?" I asked softly as he kissed it.

"A love song," he said in little more than a whisper, "but I unfortunately do not have anything to play upon right now."

Frowning, I wrapped the towel tighter around me. I wanted to hear his music; it had been so lacking in the rushed days of our travelling. "Can you not hum the tune?"

"I would prefer to show you the finished product, love," he stated. As I was about to protest, he held up a hand. "Besides, I've yet to find proper words to fit the melody."

I crossed my arms. "Oh, all right," I grumbled, just for the sake of being stubborn.

Erik laughed then, lilting and musical, and drew me in for a chaste kiss. My hands moved to his neck and I leaned over the bed frame. Erik growled as my tongue parted his warm lips, suddenly pulling me to him so that I was atop his long form. Breathless, my mouth plundered his and I mewled like a hungry kitten, arching my back. I wanted to taste his very essence; to get to the core of his soul and thoroughly pleasure us both.

Erik's hands travelled to up and down my back, then continued their journey downward to grasp my bottom. Fisting his gauzy white shirt in my palms, I frustratedly tried to untuck it. Sitting up, he seemingly tore the garment off, pulling me back down with a groan and running his hands along my sides, the rough towel grating against my skin almost pleasantly.

His mouth met mine once more, and I gyrated my hips against his. To my surprised delight, he thrusted up, making no contact because of the towel I was wearing. I rolled back on my heels, becoming aware of a wetness pooling at my legs. As I paused to ponder this sensation, Erik abruptly pushed me away, looking at me as if he were almost scared. "Why?" he asked in low timbre, his voice hoarse.

"W-what?" I stammered, already mourning the loss of his body under mine.

"Why, Christine?" His voice was louder now, and I reeled back. I was not afraid, exactly, I just wanted to help.

Erik turned his face away from mine. "How do I know you won't leave me again?"

"Erik!" I cried, desperate. "I won't leave you! I never left you!"

Looking back to face me, I was shocked and saddened to find his unmasked cheek wet with tears. "I kidnapped you, Christine."

I sighed, almost exasperated. "No! No, you did not!"

He nodded. "But you..." his tone trembled, "you led me on with your games. "Past the Point of No Return", indeed. I loved you. I wanted you. You didn't want me back! And how could you? Look at me now; I could not restrain myself! I am a beast, Christine!"

My own eyes filling with tears, I stood up, wanting to comfort him in any possible way. But he jumped away from my hand when I placed it on his shoulder as if it burned. The gesture stung me; why was he behaving in this manner? "Erik," my voice broke, "Erik, I have always loved you. There was no way around it..."

"You chose the Victome!" he spat, eyes burning. "Is this another trap, Christine? Another way to lure me in, only to push me away?"

I shook my head fervently, tears falling onto my towel.

"Because if it is," he said, low of full of anguish, "kill me now."

"How could you think that?" I sobbed, advancing closer to him. "I ran away from everything I knew for you! I walked through France alone for you! I almost got _raped_ for you! If that's not devotion, Erik, then I suppose I should be the one to leave."

Erik looked down, seemingly remorseful. Then, "Maybe you should be. Despite all that, it's still difficult to love a monster, isn't it?"

The words hit me harder than any slap. "I've never called you that," I whispered, beyond tears.

"No," Erik admitted, "you did not. You only said my soul was distorted. That I was a pitiful creature of darkness. You told me you hated me."

"I was MAD, Erik. And I was frightened, yes! How could I not be?"

"There," Erik growled, "you said it. You're frightened of me."

I let out a strangled cry, my hands gripping the sides of my head in frustration. "You know very well that isn't what I meant! Do not twist my words!"

"You were frightened of your kidnapper," Erik choked out. "You are frightened still. I took you away, unconscious, from that brothel. How do I know you would have said yes? Granted me your permission?"

"You have my word." I looked solemnly into his eyes.

"And I wish I could believe it," he said harshly. "The last time you had my trust, you humiliated me in front of hundreds."

"It was the only way," I murmured, knowing my efforts were for naught.

"The only way what?" he spat. "The only way for you to get to your Victome? The only way was by lulling me into a false sense of security? You know, when I was in the circus, they would feed me for a day an expect me to 'perform' the next."

"Erik..." I didn't truly know what he was speaking about, but I desperately wanted to help.

"Don't talk!" Despite all of his ranting and raging, I could not help but notice the lines and planes of his sculpted form; he was in all honesty the image of male perfection. _That is sick, Christine. Do you think he is looking at you wantonly as he cries?_

"Erik, what caused this? What did I do?"

He wiped at his face roughly. "When I was composing just now... I started thinking..." he was crying, his whole body wracking with sobs. I'd never seen him in this state and wanted nothing more than to hold him. "Christine... I manipulated you. I took advantage of you. I threaten your virtue, and I'm no better than the man who owned that brothel."

My mouth opened in indignance. "You tell this to the woman who was just now on top of you, wishing for you to untie my towel? Erik, I _yearn_ for your hands upon my flesh. I am the one who threatens your virtue."

Erik glanced at me, the slightest glimmer of hope in his green orbs. Then, the spite returned, and I was again standing in front of a man I didn't know. "Your words entice me, Delilah. Just as they did on the night of _Don Juan Triumphante._"

I must have made a noise between a groan and sob, now feeling utterly lost in the situation. "I meant them then and I mean them now! If your skull is too thick to understand that, then that's your problem!" I shot back.

"How do I know you speak the truth?" Erik's eyes softened at my somewhat lighthearted comment.

"Because you have my heart!" I screamed. "What more do you want?"

At this, Erik staggered over to the bed and perched on the edge, holding his head in his hands. "Oh, God. Christine, you love me."

I sighed, daring to sit next to him. "How many times will I have to tell you before it sinks in?" My hand went to his shuddering back, wincing at the scars I felt on top of the musculature.

Erik seemed oblivious, pulling me to him. "Christine," he breathed in my scent, kissing the top of my head. "_Mon ange_, I am so sorry."

We sat for a very long while like that; I was nestled in his firm embrace and had no intention of moving. However, I soon realized I must address the issue at hand and pull myself out of my dream world.

"For what?" My eyes met his honestly.

"For what?" Erik exclaimed. "For treating you the way I just did! I did not mean half of what I said. Well, the part about myself still holds true, but you are my perfect angel. You can do no harm in my eyes."

"Erik, oh Erik," I said into his strong chest, letting him hold me when it was I who wanted to embrace him. "I am not perfect, not by any means. I am afraid your statements about me hold much more true than the ones intended toward you. But you must know, _mon ange, w_hen people love each other, they fight sometimes. Considering our history, there is certainly a lot to discuss."

"I treated you like a..."

My head whipped up, clapping a hand to his mouth. "Don't say it," I murmured. "If you do, then I will become truly mad."

Erik smiled for the first time since our argument, and I realized how much I'd missed it. "Rest now, _mon ange_. We still have a long day's journey ahead."

"Erik," I giggled, "I must change into something more appropriate."

With Erik grumbling, I went to find my chemise. Emerging from the bathroom with it on in place of the towel, I found Erik had pulled back the silk duvet. My heart seized as I once again felt this man's love for me in just a simple gesture. Smiling, I climbed in, only to have a strong arm encircle my form. Turning to face him as he was blowing out the candle, I frowned.

"You put your shirt on!" I pouted.

He laughed. My body felt a tingle. "Why should that matter, Christine?" Erik's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"I..." For all I teased him, I was quite awkward on the receiving end. "Well..."

"Yes?" Erik raised an eyebrow. "Finish your sentences, _mon ange_," he baited.

I looked him square in the eye, summoning all my courage. "Perhaps it's because I enjoy the feel of your body against mine, without the impediment of clothes."

At this, Erik let out a shaky laugh and wrapped his arm around my waist.

I snuggled against him despite the shirt, his fingers skating lightly down my arm. "Will you ever forgive me, Christine?" he whispered into my neck, his words muffled.

"I already have, Erik," I breathed. Long moments passed, during which I simply reveled in the feel of being in his arms.

"Erik," I said after a while, assuming he was not yet asleep.

"Hmm?" His mouth was still at my neck, and I let out a shiver.

"I'm actually quite relieved we fought."

"You... you are?"

"Yes," I said carefully. "It's important to get certain... issues... out in the open. Now, we don't have that hanging over our heads anymore."

"I love you, Christine," he murmured, kissing my neck.

"And I love you, Erik."

***

The morning came, all too quickly in my opinion. Erik left to bring me breakfast, so I resolved myself to looking out the window at the French countryside and the road ahead, a glorious winter landscape. My eyes eventually travelled to our carriage, not surprised to find Acton standing beside it. What did startle me, though, was that he was writing in that book of his. Of course, I was much too far away to make anything out, just to see that he was writing.

I was staring for a long time, and my heart almost stopped when I saw his head turn upwards to my window. I quickly let the curtain fall, hoping against hope that he did not see me. Why I felt so nervous, I was not sure. It seemed to be that same feeling I had experienced the day before, a kind of hair-raising, instinctual anxiety.

I shrugged off the reaction, however, and moved downstairs, deciding to join Erik instead of being lazy and allowing him to serve me. As I moved down the curved stairwell, I heard someone moving up it. I paused my footsteps, as did the other person. Shaking off my nerves, I firmly continued my descent. And the incomer continued his ascent.

My heart picked up pace as I realized we were going to intersect at some point. The footfalls were closer, their volume increasing by the second. Reaching the bend, my heart was pounding loudly enough for all of France to hear, and my breaths were coming in short puffs. _Calm down, Christine. It's just someone going to their room.. Just stopping upstairs after breakfast... _two more steps... _Deep breaths...._

Acton. My fears confirmed. He must have seen my expression of terror as he approached me. Stupidly, I backed against the wall.

"Why so frightened, little bird?" His nondescript features were all of a sudden terrifying.

"I'm not... not frightened...." I lied through my teeth.

"You have seen my book, _non_?" His voice was like gravel in my ear, his body meeting mine against the wood paneling. I felt as if I could retch.

"Book? What book?" I breathed, full sounds not escaping my throat.

"Don't lie," was his gruff response, and his fingers wrapped around my throat.

"I'm... not... lying!" My voice sounded bigger now. _Good, Christine. Just breathe._

"I saw you, spying through the window," his hand tightened its grip, and for a moment I wondered if he was going to strangle me, right there. _Don't be silly,_ I assured myself.

"I was simply... looking out... not at you!" I exclaimed, struggling against his hold.

"Well, then," his hand relaxed.

I took the opportunity to walk away, still utterly shaken, intending to tell Erik everything and make a run for it as soon as possible. Until I heard a voice in my ear. "If you tell him a word of this, neither of you will live to see your wedding day."

*****Feel free to review! It's the best encouragement an author can have to keep writing! Sorry about the cliffie... hehehe.*** **

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**Nightfall26 - I hear ya! I'm trying to keep the music alive, but it's hard for them to do anything, as right now they're trying to escape a country. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Anawey - So, you got a taste of darker, or at least a not as nice Erik! What did you think? **

**Eleadnor - Hmm... You just might be catching onto something there! ;)**

**Iza - Thank you, it means a lot that you told me I kept the characters true! **

**Debkay - You're gonna have to wait! Haha sorry it's hard for me too. I'm glad you liked the proposal! Thank you again for reviewing!**

**Artemis1234567 - Thanks for reviewing! I'm sorry about the update lag. :(**

**Doctorwholover - Aw well thanks. :)**


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